Memo: With Love To Him
by takokunnn
Summary: Perhaps he has never let go of the past. Perhaps he breathes in the present, but he lives in what had been before. Perhaps Oikawa will come back someday, because best friends don't just disappear from each other's lives like that. Iwaizumi is desperate, but he does not despair, because the truth is but a stone's throw away. (Sequel to These Hands Stained Red)
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is the sequel to These Hands Stained Red. Might wanna read that first, lest you get confused about stuff.

(In the end I couldn't resist the temptation to write and so... yeah...)

Updates are probably going to be irregular, but here you go, the long-awaited (who am I even kidding) sequel!

* * *

The sun crawls down the horizon like a wounded animal. Night, oppressive, swallows the sky in its absence. A stray dog howls, the lone sound chilling to the ear.

There is a corpse on the floor.

"Hey, Tanaka, come take a look," chief officer Iwaizumi calls out, motioning the man to come closer.

Giving the window one last glance– that was probably how the murderer broke in, Tanaka steps over to Iwaizumi.

"Look at this, what'd you reckon?"

Tanaka inspects the woman. Her hair, snipped off, lays neatly on the floor as small braids. He glances up to her eyes. Two hollow sockets stare back at him. Her eyeballs, having long since been gouged out, rest docile on the table. The eyes fix their unwavering gaze on the corpse.

This type of presentation is unmistakable– this is the work of Sire Noble.

An infamous serial killer, Sire Noble had been on the run ever since a year and a half ago.

(Or, that's what the police tells the public– _he's on the run_ – but in truth, other than a few clues here and there, they aren't any closer to the murderer than they were a year before.)

"Any background information about the victim?" Tanaka asks. Context is very important when it comes to this particular killer.

"Yeah, we found a photo album open on her desk. Some officers have already identified and contacted the man on the picture.

It seems that the lady left her husband when he became a cancer patient.

 _You're bald, you're ugly, I deserve someone better_ , her ex-husband quoted her parting words.

Iwaizumi moves to the other side of the victim. "What's this?"

On her left cheek, striking against the cold, dead flesh, is a delicate carving of a single cursive 'C'. There is another small 'x' inside the 'C'. Tanaka recognizes this symbol.

The C stands for Crows. Crows Corporation.

Hitman organization.

He used to work there as security. Not hitman material, but it wasn't as though he would ever be interested in killing for money. Now Tanaka supplies inside information from the police to the various agents there, when the need arises.

"What do you think this sign is?" Iwaizumi asks, scrutinizing it carefully. He has seen this symbol before multiple times, on walls, on victims, on scraps of paper left by killers.

The police determined that it was some sort of identification for an organisation, but now that it's appeared on the victim of a killer that- presumably– works alone, Iwaizumi isn't so sure anymore.

"Don't know, maybe he joined a group?" Tanaka answered, shrugging non-committedly. He's heard from Hinata that the newest addition to Crows Corps is _the_ Sire Noble himself.

 _I should pay a visit to Hinata_ , Tanaka decides. It has been a long time, and he's curious about the Sire Noble predicament. Some time ago, the ginger came to him, asking for details about the Sire killings. He was sure that the other's target was the serial killer, but then recently, word has that Hinata was the one who recommended Sire to Crows Corp.

Muttering sounds adjacent to him, soft against the background noises of other officers.

Tanaka casts a glance at Iwaizumi. The head of his division since the promotion a few months ago, this man is a down-to-earth kind of a person, with excellent physical and mental strength. Hardworking, loyal, just– all the qualities a good police officer needs to have. The _creme de la creme_ , it's no wonder he'd be promoted.

"Hey, concentrate," Iwaizumi says, cutting off his train of thoughts.

Tanaka grins back at him, "Sure thing, boss."

He got reprimanded again for his lack of seriousness at crime scenes.

The door to an empty apartment swings open. Iwaizumi feels for the switch and watches in satisfaction as the lights flicker on with a faint buzz.

Stepping inside, he closes the door firmly behind him. A grumbling sounds from his stomach.

"Hello, pizza delivery? I'd like a Hawaiian, thanks."

He recalls his address and leaves a name for the guy on the other side. Kenma, if he remembers correctly. Recently work has been tough and all he has time for is pizza. Rather unhealthy, but Iwaizumi is usually too tired to care.

After a long day of work with a serial killer still on the loose– although the number of homicides have dropped significantly– all he wants to do is to relax.

With a flicker of his hand, he turns on the radio. News reports from a faceless voice rise from static as he sinks into his couch. Something about a recent election somewhere, it doesn't matter to him.

A yawn escapes. Iwaizumi feels his eyelids getting heavier, his consciousness slowly slipping... tethering on the edge...

A loud buzz jolts him back to the present. "Pizza delivery," a muffled voice sounds from outside the apartment.

Iwaizumi opens the door to find a familiar face in front of him.

"Hi again, sir," the delivery boy says. Iwaizumi knows he must been eating way too much pizza for the boy to be able recognise him.

"Hey, Hinata. Here you go." He hands the payment over to the other dutifully, along with some tip.

Before Iwaizumi was about to close the door, Hinata stopped him.

"...You seem quite stressed recently, take care, okay?"

"Sure, thanks for the concern," the man nods. _If even Hinata can tell, then I must really be under a lot of pressure._

His sensitivity to matters of psychology- like his own feelings- have never been good.

The pizza fills his stomach nicely. It is the only full meal he's eaten for the day. Washing up takes up the rest of his strength. Housework will have to wait until tomorrow, then.

As Iwaizumi climbed into his bed, the frames creaking in protest, he thought about Oikawa.

It's been a year or so since he'd last heard from the other man. "You were never able to last a week without contacting me," Iwaizumi mutters, "Where are you now?"

Oikawa Tooru is his childhood friend. Rather annoying, rather rich and very clingy, but his closest friend nonetheless. The man disappeared about a year ago.

When he asked Oikawa's various lovers and servants, or, at least those that he could still find, they told him that the man went on a long trip around the world.

It would have been believable if Iwaizumi hadn't gone to his place and checked his belongings. It seemed as though Oikawa had no plans to leave– nothing was packed.

Plus, the Oikawa he knows would never have left without his watch. It was a present from Iwaizumi, after all. He treasures it to an extent that is almost ridiculous.

Sometimes, people don't recognise the treasures they have until it's too late. Iwaizumi feels a sense of detachment from his life. As much as he tries to deny it, the truth is as clear as the light of the day– he misses Oikawa way too much.

"You never told me what job you had," Iwaizumi grumbles, "Rich bastard, at least leave me a message or something."

He falls asleep, as he does every day, in the vague yet suffocating feeling that he'll never get to see the other again.

* * *

Mornings give an air of tranquility, but for one of the more spacious apartments in a row of flats, that is far from the case.

"Hinata!" A flustered Kageyama screams.

"Sorry!" An equally flustered Hinata screams back, the bathroom door slamming behind him.

He is _so_ not used to a flatmate.

"I can't help that I'm forgetful!" Hinata laments to himself, face red with embarrassment.

This is the fifth time he's walked in on Kageyama in the restroom, not counting all those other times the other remembered to lock the door.

It's been two weeks or so since they moved in together. Kageyama, whose mother is the wife of a millionaire, insisted on paying for the apartment. Hinata thought he meant the rent.

He got the shock of his life when the documents announced that the flat had been bought and paid for in full.

 _Seriously, how rich is this guy even?_

"Oi, Hinata, your turn." Kageyama emerges from the restroom, looking much fresher than before.

The taller of the two watches as Hinata mumbles a thanks that evolved into a yawn, trudging past him to the bathroom.

Kageyama never thought he'd get used to another's presence living with him, but life is full of surprises, isn't it?

He steps into the kitchen. "Let's see..." Kageyama mumbles to himself, trying to remember what Hinata had taught him. He can fry eggs properly now, so that is out of the way soon enough. Next, five tablespoons of cocoa powder in each large cup while the water is heated, then pour hot water into each cup and stir.

He is placing the food on their dining table when fond memories of the first time they met strike him.

Kageyama pauses, a hand on the cup handle.

If they hadn't collided that day, then Hinata wouldn't have dropped his wallet, and he wouldn't have tried to return it, and he wouldn't have been offered this very drink, and then they wouldn't be here, together, anymore.

 _Life is full of surprises_ , he wonders to himself.

Kageyama supposes he could get used to it.

* * *

Iwaizumi revisits Oikawa's estate one Sunday morning, taking the longer path for old time's sake.

 _"Iwa-chan, let's walk this way!"_

 _"No, that's a longer route."_

 _"But I want to spend more time with you, stupid Iwa-chan."_

 _"You're the stupid one, Trashkawa."_

 _"Please?"_

 _"...Fine."_

The memory of that conversation resurfaces. Oikawa liked to take long walks with him, despite his insistence that 'solitary walks' are called 'solitary' for a reason.

It's not like he minded much, though.

A small breeze dances with the leaves on the ground. Spring is here, colours are starting to paint themselves on the greens around him. Iwaizumi breathes deeply.

He emerges from the small path minutes later and reaches the gate. The rust and peeling paint stirs up a somber feeling in him. The gate groans when he pushes it, the sound solitary and weighted. A fountain that had long dried up meets his eyes.

 _"Iwa-chan, watch out!" A pair of hands pushed him into the water._

 _Iwaizumi swore loudly, stumbling into the fountain with a loud splash. Droplets exploded into the air, shining under the sun like a myriad of cascading diamonds._

 _"Oikawa-"_

 _Before he could finish the sentence, he was drenched again by yet another splash to his right. Obnoxious laughter fills his ears._

 _"The water feels amazing! I was almost sure that I'll be fried," Oikawa said, and Iwaizumi agreed begrudgingly. The heat was searing that afternoon._

 _Still, he couldn't help but scold, "Rich people like you should have better conduct."_

Iwaizumi steps around the fountain, where dust has settled into the carvings on its crumbling stones, and arrives at the mansion. The building, majestic, stands tall like the first day he laid his eyes on it.

It feels as though the essence of his best friend is embedded in the structure itself.

Nostalgia wets his eyes.

The hallways are dusty and small clouds start at his feet as he walks. Light from the glass-panel windows casts shadows on the walls. Fragments of the past haunt Iwaizumi.

"Oikawa, where are you?"

The sense of loss feels surreal, but it claws its way into his lungs, leaving him gasping for breath. He cannot stop here.

Iwaizumi takes a turn up the stairs. There is a place Oikawa had instructed him not to go, no matter what happens. He didn't step foot in there a year ago, despite his maddening and desperate search for answers.

But Oikawa isn't coming back- his gut feeling is never wrong- and the bastard owes him that much for disappearing just like that.

The stairs lead to a foreign hallway. There are rooms, some empty, some containing things, but they give off a different vibe as compared to the rest of the estate. Oikawa's presence is lacking here.

The hallway is neither grand nor luxurious, but an air of elegance surrounds the simple layout of the place. Plain, yes, but not of bad taste.

Iwaizumi reaches the last room, door closed, unlike the other ones he had passed. Gripping the doorknob, he suddenly feels a pang of anxiety.

 _What should I be expecting behind this door?_

Jaws set, Iwaizumi turns the doorknob. The room is large. Partially bare and partially cluttered, a strange combination. There are books and papers scattered inside. Overall, it looks like a study.

But Oikawa's study is a few rooms down his bedroom, is it not? Iwaizumi's been there plenty of times.

So whose room, exactly, is this?

A trained police officer, Iwaizumi slips into professional mode. Hawk-like eyes survey the area for any form of identification.

He finds the name 'Kageyama Tobio', written in neat handwriting, on one of the papers. Worksheets, it seems.

 _Who is Kageyama Tobio? What is the relationship between Oikawa Tooru and Kageyama Tobio?_

There are writings on some of the books. Familiar, elegant, it practically screams Oikawa. These are notes and corrections, so Oikawa must have been teaching this person, whoever he is. _Did Oikawa take up a job as a private tutor? Why didn't he tell me about this, then?_

So many questions, so little answers.

Iwaizumi sees signs that Kageyama had packed and gone. Clothes are missing from the hangers, personal belongings and necessities are gone, and there are no shoes in sight.

He notes the name down. Perhaps this is a valuable clue to unveiling the truth.

Iwaizumi takes a little more time surveying the room. This is the place Oikawa told him to never enter, but he did, and he had discovered ghosts of Oikawa he never knew existed.

"I swear I'll get to the bottom of this," Iwaizumi's voice, clear, hard, reverberated throughout the room.

If not for his friend, then for himself, for a peace of heart that had always been out of his reach.

Stepping down the steps of the forbidden staircase, Iwaizumi's feet take him to the ballroom.

 _"Hey, Iwa-chan, dance with me," Oikawa requested, a hand outstretched._

 _The atmosphere was serious. The trademark grin was off his face, and in its place is a rare smile, mature, gentle. Iwaizumi didn't know what to say._

 _"I... I can't dance," he blurted out._

 _Oikawa's eyes widened by a fraction, "But Iwa-chan, all true gentlemen dance!"_

 _Embarrassed, Iwaizumi averted his eyes. His family was unlike Oikawa's. They had neither power nor affluence. From an average household, it was expected that ballroom dancing was not one of his skills._

 _Oikawa, still unlike himself, said, "Then, Iwa-chan, I'll teach you how to dance."_

 _"I'll take the female part. First, place you feet here. Are you ready? It goes like this: One, two, three. One, two, three..."_

 _It was awkward at the beginning- Iwaizumi felt wooden, his limbs moved against his will, his steps were jerky. But Oikawa guided him, unusually patient, unusually focused._

 _Soon he got used to the twirls, the turns, the rhythm of their feet._

 _And under the crystalline chandelier, amidst the melody from a vinyl record, in the dead of the night, they danced._

That was so long ago. Now, Iwaizumi stands in the bleak and bare ballroom, touched by a faint smell of decay, with only the rays of the sun as lonely company. He is more than aware of how much he misses Oikawa. It is frightening.

There is a grand piano at the corner of the ballroom. Iwaizumi approaches it, and as he does a small black chair at the side of the piano comes into view.

He used to sit on the chair, some distance away from the piano, and listen to Oikawa play.

Oikawa had deft and nimble fingers, like a masterpiece molded by a careful potter. They were the fingers of a composer, a musician.

His favourite instrument was the grand piano.

 _"The piano is steady, while the violin is fickle. Reliable, unlike the whimsical strumming of the guitar. It might not seem like much, but the grand piano feels like a cornerstone to me."_

 _"Kinda reminds me of you, Iwa-chan," Oikawa added as an afterthought._

Iwaizumi uncovers the piano lid. Black and white stare back at him. Long ago, Oikawa had taught him a melody, a slow, easy song.

His fingers are callused. Years of being a policeman had stripped away his youth, leaving behind a man who is weary of the world and burdened in his heart.

The keys are cool to the touch. Iwaizumi sits on the bench, one foot above the pedal. He recalls the melody.

A light but steady tune, nothing fancy, nothing comparable to the flurry of notes that erupt everytime Oikawa performs, but he holds it close to his heart.

The sound, an art, that his best friend left him. In a way, Oikawa is still with him, still living through the imprints he had left on Iwaizumi.

He spends the rest of the afternoon playing the tune over and over again, immersing himself in a sea of what used to be before.

* * *

"Kageyama, shove over," Hinata whines, a pillow in hand.

Kageyama grumbles back, " Go back to your own room."

"But you have a king-sized bed! Not that I don't, but it's lonely sleeping alone."

Looking up, Kageyama mulls over his words. "...Alright. I guess you can sleep here."

Hinata's face immediately lights up like a thousand-watt bulb. With a yell of triumph, he throws himself beside Kageyama, bouncing slightly on the springy mattress.

"Hey," Kageyama immediately supplies, "Don't you dare spoil the bed, dumbass."

The boy beside him simply grins back, seemingly elated. "I'll sleep here every night!"

 _Wait, what?_

He props himself up in alarm, "Hinata-"

"Oops, I've fallen asleep! Snore..."

A groan of frustration sounds from Kageyama, who collapses back onto the bed. The room is silent save for Hinata's- very obviously fake, may he add- snoring.

"...What should we do with your room, then?"

In the end, it seems that Kageyama has given up all hopes of ever reclaiming his bed.

Satisfied, Hinata rolls over to face the other. "What about a guest room?"

"As if we'd be having guests."

"What about another study?"

"What's the point if you're not going to use it?"

"Who says I'm not! But anyways, what about a mini gym?"

"Are you stupid?"

"I– Hey!"

"Maybe we should just leave it empty. It'll be easier to clean," Kageyama decides. They would be doing the household chores by themselves. There's no point having to work extra hard to clean a room that has no use.

Hinata sighs, "I guess you have a point."

They lie on the bed, side by side. Kageyama feels the heat radiating from beside him, hears the faint breathing in the silence of the night, and he finds himself suddenly nervous.

A hand drapes itself over his arm.

"Hey, relax," Hinata says softly, "It's not the first time we've fallen asleep together."

"I know, I just–"

 _Just what? Why am I nervous?_

"This is different from before. _We're_ different from before," Kageyama sighs, "Just give me some time to get used to it."

Previously, he didn't know that the other had a crush on him, and he thought that if Hinata didn't feel weird sleeping by another guy, then he wouldn't mind either.

But now? Kageyama finds himself looking out for Hinata, being meticulously careful as to not hurt him emotionally.

 _Is this alright for him? Does he want more from me? Does he expect anything?_

(He still remembers that one time Oikawa broke up with that lady who didn't handle the news well. A catastrophe, if he says so himself.)

But of course, this is _Hinata_ we're talking about.

"Oh? So Kageyama is actually a shy boy?" the ginger sniggers, snuggling closer to Kageyama.

"Stop talking rubbish and go to sleep already!" came the flustered reply.

Seems like he hadn't needed to worry after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Hinata's phone rings. Surprised, he starts, almost knocking over Kageyama's mug.

Dodging the pillow that Kageyama throws at his head, Hinata answers the caller with an excited 'Hello!'.

"Oh, it's Tanaka?"

Kageyama watches with a faint horror as Hinata becomes increasingly animated, bouncing around and tripping over the stacks of documents he'd carefully arranged on the floor the night before.

When Hinata's head collided with the door frame, Kageyama decides there and then that that is absolutely the last straw.

"Hinata! Come here!"

"Sit down!"

"Don't move!"

Hinata stays cowering beneath a terrifying Kageyama, averting his eyes from the onslaught of fury directed at him.

"Eh," Tanaka's voice reaches Hinata's ears, "Is that the Kageyama you were talking about?"

"Yeah, neither of us work regular hours, so he's here with me now."

Just as Kageyama is about to return to his book, a phone is shoved into his face. Puzzled, he looks at Hinata for clarification.

The boy shrugs and says, "Tanaka wants to talk to you. He's that police guy I told you about, remember?"

Kageyama receives the phone, still feeling rather confused. "Hello?" he speaks.

A disembodied voice answers back in a menacing tone, "Listen up, punk. If you dare do anything to our precious Hinata, well... Let's just say you'll regret it very, very much. Got that?"

"Uh–"

"Good, now give the phone back to Hinata."

Kageyama hands back the phone dutifully, feeling a small chill creep down his spine.

"So what was Tanaka talking to you about?" Hinata asks, curiosity piped. He's rather surprised. After all, they haven't even met each other in person yet.

Kageyama shrugs, "I got a death threat."

Flipping through the pages of his book, he tries to drag his attention away from the ever-lively Hinata, who is already continuing the exciting conversation he seems to be holding. However, his efforts are all in vain when Hinata bid his caller goodbye.

"Kageyama, Ukai is holding a party soon!"

"Not going–"

"Oh, and Tanaka says to tell you that you are expected to show up. Apparently he wants to meet you in person."

 _What did I ever do to deserve such a situation_? Kageyama sighs dejectedly.

Hinata plops down beside him, "I know you don't really like social events, but you should go and meet the other Crow agents. I'll help introduce them!"

Another sigh escapes. He drags the sound.

"Besides," Hinata continues with a dreamy smile, "I get to see you in a _suit_."

Kageyama stops mid-sigh. _Oh, yeah. We'll need to dress up for the party._

He thinks about it.

"Hinata, do you have a suit?"

Shaking his head, Hinata answered, "I had an old one with Ukai, but it doesn't fit me."

"Wanna get matching ones?"

Hearing no reply, Kageyama glances at his flatmate. Hinata, from his point of view, is absolutely positively _glowing_. Jaws agape, eyes wide, face red.

 _Exactly like a kid in a candy shop_ , Kageyama realises.

"I take that as a yes?"

Hinata makes a sound and slumps on the couch. Kageyama barely manages to identify a weak thumbs-up from him.

* * *

The piece of paper in Iwaizumi's hand is slightly crumpled. He runs a finger across a particularly deep crease. The 'C' and the 'x' stare back at him, seemingly taunting, seemingly mocking.

It could be a gang symbol. Or an underground organisation. Sire Noble could be involved. Sire Noble _must_ be– why else would he indicate this sign on his victim?

"What does this mean?"

The question plagues his mind, but he leaves the paper on the table for another day to solve.

His colleague greets goodbye to someone on the phone.

"Tanaka, don't make personal calls when you're at work," Iwaizumi chides him half-heartedly.

Said man retorts back with a grin, "We're already dismissed, boss. You're way too used to working extra hours."

 _Really? I didn't notice at all_ , Iwaizumi realises as he casts a glance towards the clock. Outside, the city lights are already lit, bright like the stars that used to don the night sky.

The stars remind him of a piece of the past.

 _The Little Prince_ is one of Oikawa's favourite reads. Once, when they were younger, Oikawa brought him on a trip to the countryside.

 _"Iwa-chan, look at the stars, aren't they pretty?"_

 _"Yeah, I guess so."_

 _They were lying on the grass, facing the endless stretch of sky. Above them was an ocean of stars, captivating against the canvas of black._

 _Iwaizumi took a deep breath, the smell of nature a pleasant change from a smog-filled city environment. A camera, abandoned, rested on Oikawa's chest._

 _Beside Iwaizumi, a hand reached up towards the night sky._

 _"You—you alone will have the stars as no one else has them," Oikawa's voice, clear and loud, rose over the sound of crickets._

 _"In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of the stars I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night."_

 _His hand, stretched out towards the vast above, lowered until it came to rest beside Iwaizumi's own._

 _Oikawa turned to face him, and he casted a glance back. "You—only you—will have the stars that can laugh."_

 _The end of the recital was accompanied by a wistful look, one that Iwaizumi rarely saw._

 _"Is that from_ The Little Prince _?"_

 _There was only silence from Oikawa, so Iwaizumi let the question be carried away by a passing breeze. They lied there for a little while more._

 _"Iwa-chan, if I die before you, just look at the stars and remember me."_

 _Iwaizumi, a little thrown off, gave Oikawa a good look, "You better take good care of yourself, then. I'd rather have you well and alive, than to have laughing stars."_

 _"Don't spoil the mood!" The other protested with a pout._

 _The river of stars, eons old, still bright, still alive, burned themselves into Iwaizumi's mind._

He is still thinking about Oikawa when a voice brings him back to the present.

"Wanna hit the bar with us? Some of us here are planning to go drinking later," Tanaka asks, shoving the last of his files back onto the shelf.

"No, but thanks for asking," Iwaizumi declines the invitation.

Tanaka's face appears above his cubicle. "You sure? It's a good bar– the ladies there are stunning."

"Nah, I don't really drink anymore."

"Okay then, boss. We'll be going now."

The group of officers left, chatting loudly as they went. Iwaizumi hears the commotion gradually fade away. His mind returns to Oikawa, but it no longer dwells on memories of that trip.

Instead, it takes a darker turn, to one he pretended he'd forgotten.

 _It was already nighttime when Iwaizumi received a call from Oikawa's steward._

 _"Sorry to trouble at such a late timing, but young master requests your presence, sir. I should probably mention that he is drunk as well, and had ordered me to ask for you."_

 _Thanking him, Iwaizumi hastened out his apartment and towards the estate._

 _He was greeted by the butler at the door, "Master Oikawa might not be in a balanced state of mind right now, please do be gentle with him."_

 _"Sure, thanks for the tip," Iwaizumi noted._

 _He stepped into the mansion, taking familiar twists and turns across hallways._

Was your break up really that bad?

 _Iwaizumi was worried. Oikawa had many flings, none of them were able to last for a substantial period of time._ Perhaps this was a lady he was unusually fond of and their separation left a wound on Oikawa?

 _He never did agree with Oikawa's lifestyle– it was too flashy, too wild, too self-destructive. Changing partners at the speed of changing clothes was a horrifying idea._

 _It's not like Oikawa listened to him, but he supposed that even best friends have to disagree on something._

 _The door to the bedroom was ajar. Iwaizumi slowed down, his footsteps soft against the carpeted floor. An intoxicated Oikawa is a hard Oikawa to deal with, that he knew, from all his past experiences._

 _Iwaizumi took a deep breath and readied himself. A step, then another, and he entered the room._

 _Oikawa was draped across the edge of the bed, a wine glass hanging precariously from the tip of his fingers. He looked flushed and weak, body limp, hair tousled. Unfocused eyes roamed over Iwaizumi once, twice, before they finally focused on him._

 _"Iwa-chan?" The name was a mumble, barely coherent. It held an emotion Iwaizumi could not identify._

 _"Yeah, it's me," he confirmed. "You alright?"_

 _"Iwa-chan," Oikawa said again, louder this time. He blinked sluggishly._

 _Said man approached Oikawa, "Heard you the first time. Look at the state you're in, seems like I'll be taking care of you– Hey, wait, stay there first, don't get up, I'm going there–"_

 _Oikawa ignored his words and stumbled to his feet. Swaying slightly, he murmured softly, "Iwa-chan, I want you."_

 _"I told you already, I'm coming–"_

 _The words died in his throat when Oikawa grabbed one of his arms. The wine glass, released, fell to the floor with a muffled 'thud'. If Oikawa had noticed, he paid no attention to it._

 _"Oikawa?"_

 _Iwaizumi felt uneasy. He tried to take a step back, but the other advanced, and he took another step, and another, and another._

 _The cold, hard wall met his back. "Oi, Trashkawa, stop it," he tried to reason._

 _Oikawa's eyes were dark, darker than he had ever seen them before. It shook him to the core._ Like a hunter and its prey _, Iwaizumi realised._

 _"I want you," the intoxicated man repeated._

 _Iwaizumi struggled to no avail. He was still reluctant to use too much force, Oikawa, who was neck-deep in a drunken stupor, could get hurt accidentally._

 _"Let go already–"_

 _And then a pair of lips covered his own._


	3. Chapter 3

_Iwaizumi registered soft. Then moist. And then the alarm bells in his head started to blare._

 _He pushed against Oikawa's grip. His aggressor– because what else could Iwaizumi use to describe the man now in front of him?– stumbled backwards a little._

 _Oikawa found his balance and dipped his head forward again. Iwaizumi made a strangled sound. He tasted alcohol on his lips._

 _Let me go, the thought flashed red in his mind, he struggled against the hands pushing him against the wall. Oikawa ignored him._

 _Years of pent-up frustration reared its ugly head. He shoved the man. Hard._

 _"What the hell is wrong with you!" Iwaizumi all but screamed at Oikawa, who staggered backwards, almost tripping. He looked dazed._

 _Grabbing a fistful of collar, stained with the unmistakable red of expensive wine, Iwaizumi shouted, "Oikawa! ANSWER ME!"_

 _He was okay with taking care of Oikawa. He was okay with dealing with the mess of the man afterwards. He was okay with cleaning off the tears and vomit on himself after Oikawa had finally settled down._

 _But this. This crossed the line. Oikawa being unreasonable, refusing to listen, refusing to budge and forcing himself onto Iwaizumi, that was the straw that broke the camel's back._

 _It seemed like all the information finally trudged its way through Oikawa's alcohol-infused brain, because the man's eyes widened. His gaze, all the while looking through Iwaizumi, finally found their focus._

 _He blinked, and his face scrunched up, and when his eyelids squeezed shut again, there was wet sliding down the curves of his cheeks._

 _Iwaizumi had never seen him cry so openly with such a sense of despair before. He released the fistful of fabric and Oikawa crumpled to the ground, knees weak, shaking and trembling and choking on his own tears._

 _"I– I'm sorry–" the apologies were drowned over by his hiccups and gasps._

 _Iwaizumi, feeling panic rising, bend down beside him, "Oikawa? Look, I'm sorry I shouted, are you– are you alright?"_

 _All he got was more tears, more blubbering of half-formed apologies. Iwaizumi say down in front of Oikawa, head hung in shame. Didn't the butler tell him to be gentle? He himself knew that his friend becomes like a child when drunk._

 _"Iwa-chan," Oikawa choked out in between tears, startling the other._

 _"Yeah? What is it?"_

 _"I can't– I can't seem to be happy," with his hands lying limply beside him, the tears fell free from a face twisted with sorrow, "I try so hard, but I, I–"_

 _Iwaizumi was at a loss for words. Facing the sudden confession, his didn't know how to answer Oikawa._

 _"Hey, I'm here. I'm not going to leave you behind just because of this."_

 _Their friendship isn't a fling, no matter what happens, Iwaizumi would never abandon Oikawa. That is the one thing he is sure of._

 _He stayed beside Oikawa until the sobs turned to sniffles, until the sniffles turned to slow breathing. The man, mind a hazy fog, clung onto Iwaizumi until he fell asleep. Iwaizumi carried Oikawa to the bed and crashed down beside him, exhausted._

 _Sleep came._

Now, here, in the present, Iwaizumi's chest tightens uncomfortably. That was a memory he would have preferred to bury somewhere under the clutter of his mind.

 _The morning after that incident, Oikawa told him that he was just feeling a little more hurt and lonely than usual. No big deal at all. He apologised with a smile, but his eyes were red-rimmed and his smile screamed fake. Iwaizumi didn't pry. He knew the other needed some space._

 _And after that Oikawa barrelled through flings after flings of dysfunctional relationships until Iwaizumi decided that enough was enough. They took a few days off life, watching movies in the mansion and being stupid together._

 _Oikawa played the grand piano for him, songs after songs after songs until his fingers cramped up and both their hearts felt lighter._

Iwaizumi sighs. The office's fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting shadows on the wall. He should leave, it is late already. The piece of paper on the desk captures his attention once more.

"Maybe I should make a call first," he mutters to himself. There is a guy who can probably find out what exactly the 'C' and the 'x' stand for.

The risks are clear to Iwaizumi. As the chief officer– as a policeman, even– he shouldn't have any connections to this guy, but he has, and he's going to use it.

The phone in his hand, slightly warm, rings twice. A gruff voice he recognises answers the call.

He sends a greeting back and gets straight to business, "Hey, Iwaizumi here. I have a favour to ask. Can I meet you this Saturday?"

"...One-thirty. Owl Street Café."

"Alright, thanks."

"I'm the one who owes you a favour," Kentaro replied.

* * *

After a substantial amount of research, Kageyama locates a decent tailor near their area.

They set out on a cloudy day, nearing the end of the usual rush during lunchtime hours.

The mall is sparsely populated at this time. Halfway to their destiny, Hinata spots a familiar face.

"Tanaka!"

The policeman is on lunch break with Iwaizumi, who'd finally agreed to stop work and take a breather.

Tanaka grins, jogging forward to meet the ginger, his companion tailing behind reluctantly.

"Hey there, Hinata," he greets, "It's rare to see you around here."

Hinata rarely visits malls other than the one he works at. The last time Tanaka saw him on lunch break was probably two months ago.

"Yeah, I'm going to get a suit for the party, Kageyama says there's a good shop here," Hinata replies, "Speaking of which, Tanaka, this is Kageyama– Eh? Where'd he go?"

Eyes narrowing, Tanaka scans the area. He sees a hunched-over figure behind a potted plant, looking suspiciously like Hinata's description of Kageyama over the phone. The questionable person flinches when their gazes meet.

Tanaka almost calls out to him when Hinata interrupts with an exclamation.

"Oh, sir! You're a police man?"

"Yeah," Iwaizumi, who finally caught up, replies, a little surprised. "Hinata, right?"

Said teen nods his head. "And your name is? I never got it, I think."

"I'm Iwaizumi."

Tanaka cuts in, his previous interest in Kageyama forgotten temporarily. "You guys know each other?"

"Yeah," Hinata confirms, "I've been delivering pizza to his place. Are you guys going back to– Hey! Wait for me, Kageyama!"

He throws out a hasty goodbye and sprints by the two officers towards a taller teen, who is rapidly retreating into the crowds.

A snort escapes Tanaka, "Well, that's Hinata for you."

"Have you been eating pizza recently? You should take care of yourself," he continues to say as they start again on their journey back, but Iwaizumi is no longer listening.

Kageyama... It sounds familiar, Iwaizumi rakes his mind for an answer. Something important... Something crucial...

And then it hit him. Kageyama Tobio.

"Tanaka, I need you to go back first, there's something I need to settle," Iwaizumi says, feet coming to a halt.

"Wait–" Tanaka objects, turning around, only to find that the man has already sprinted off in the opposite direction.

* * *

Iwaizumi jostles his way through the sea of shoppers, head spinning with adrenaline. He remembers the back of Kageyama.

Tall build, somewhat on the lean side, brunette, wearing a black top. That is all he could pick out from his brief memory of the figure.

There are countless other guys like this.

He almost approached two men by accident, but gut instinct held him back. (And fortunately too, else that would've embarrassing.)

From his peripheral vision, Iwaizumi catches sight of a lone figure outside the restroom, leaning against the wall. He has a small frown on his face. A small orange bag hangs from one of his shoulders.

Bingo.

Iwaizumi takes tentative steps towards him. "Um, are you Kageyama Tobio?"

Kageyama starts, surprised, "Ah– er, yeah." His tone is as unsure as Iwaizumi's had been.

And suddenly, now, facing this missing piece of Oikawa's past, Iwaizumi doesn't know how to react. Kageyama Tobio, in flesh and blood, is so far from the ghost of a face he had in mind.

He really should have thought through his plan of action first.

"Do you... know an Oikawa?" Iwaizumi asks, because that is probably the only appropriate question left to ask.

Kageyama's face remains neutral, but that would not suffice if one wants to fool a skilled policeman.

Immediately, his gaze became sharper at the mere mention of the name. A slight inhale, possible out of surprise. There was a sudden, almost unnoticeable tensing of jaw muscles.

"No," Kageyama says after a beat of silence, "I don't know any Oikawa." But the damage is done, and both of them knows that.

Tension coils around their still, frozen bodies like a serpent. Neither of them is sure of what to do next.

Iwaizumi swallows with difficulty. Kageyama's fingers twitch. He fights down the impulse to reach out and close them around the other's neck.

"Sorry to make you wait," Hinata emerges out of the bathroom, footsteps slowing to an unsure stop when he saw the two at an awkward standstill.

Kageyama makes a motion with his hand. "I, I should go," he mutters and grabs Hinata's wrist. Iwaizumi watches as he rushes off pointedly without a single glance back.

Standing alone beside the bathroom, the realisation that he should have tailed them comes a moment too late. He is unable to see the two anymore.

The commotion of the mall swarms about his ears like a cloud of angry, buzzing flies. Frustration simmers down to a sort of weariness.

Iwaizumi heads back to his office with much more questions than answers.

* * *

"Kageyama, what's wrong?" Hinata asks. His companion is unusually silent and he's pretty sure that the other isn't thinking about what to eat for dinner.

(He'd already decided to cook pork curry, so Kageyama shouldn't be thinking about dinner anyways.)

"That police guy from just now, he knows my name and that I have a connection with Oikawa."

"Oh, he's Iwaizumi. I deliver pizza to his place sometimes."

"Be careful around him, he knows you're with me now," Kageyama cautions. No one acquainted with him should know about the name 'Oikawa', other than Hinata and those who were involved in the cover-up.

Seems like there are ends from my first murder that were left untied.

He pushes the thought away to ponder over later at night. Right now, there is a much more important event taking place.

The door swings open smoothly when he pushes it. Kageyama glances around. The overall layout of the place is classy, but not overflowing with luxurious decorations. Simple but stylish, the way he likes things to be.

Calming Hinata down and making his stay still was a pain (even though he's, like, eighteen years old already), but they finally got his measurements over and done with.

"I feel weirdly exposed," Hinata complains.

"Go look for suit designs you like," Kageyama dismisses him with a wave of his hand.

Imagine his surprise when he learns that Hinata actually has a rather impressive fashion sense. They agree on a design– modern yet modest– with an orange tie.

Hinata balks when he catches sight of the price tags.

(He almost faints when Kageyama pulls out a credit card and assures, "It's okay, the price doesn't matter.")

 _Seriously, how rich is this guy even?_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I'm sorry for the long wait, things are getting busy at school so updates aren't gonna be that consistent. On a side note, thanks for everyone's support!_

 _Now, on to the story:_

* * *

Under Oikawa's bed, there is a wooden box with a heavy lock the colour of dried blood. Rust flakes when Iwaizumi touches the metal.

The key lies in his hand, dormant and warmed by his grip. He found it hidden behind _The Little Prince_ some time ago while browsing through Oikawa's bookcase. His best friend had probably adhered to the cliche of a treasure chest under the bed or something.

(Yeah, Oikawa did. The box was hidden under some loose planks.)

There is no marking on the box– made of mahogany, Iwaizumi presumes. _Oikawa would have used mahogany_.

His finger swipes the lid and makes a brown gap in the grey dust. Polished wood peeks through. The lock beckons him to discover whatever lies inside. He wants to know– of course he does– but he does not want to think about the strings of tangled implications that knowledge can hold.

The lie that Oikawa is touring the world is a convenient one, albeit rather poorly-constructed. He tried to convince himself to believe it. He is still trying.

People are afraid of the unknown, as he is, as he had been a year ago.

Iwaizumi inserts the key into the keyhole and turns. The lock pops open with a 'click'; the sound reverberates through him. It stays there. The room is a stagnant stillness and he hears the echo of a thousand clicks.

He ignores the tremble in his hand and fumbles until the lock comes off. Fingers coated with rust heave the lid open. Iwaizumi peers inside.

The contents catch him off-guard. A deflated volleyball, from the time they were still young. A pen, tethering on the expensive side, worn from years of use. There are other things too. He recognises them. Memories of his time together with Oikawa, memories of fond experiences, or simply memories.

 _I can't believe he still kept them._

One object he has no recollection of catches his eyes.

A small file– ebony and simple– unlike all of Oikawa's other belongings. Iwaizumi picks it up. As he does, a thick, elongated envelope falls out. He takes that in his hand.

 _Iwa-chan_ , it says.

Abandoning the envelope temporarily for the file, Iwaizumi flips it open, curious.

The few pages inside are neatly arranged. A composition, it seems. Music notes penned in black hold his gaze for a few seconds before he flicks it upwards, in search of a name to pin unto this piece of work. The neat handwriting on top reveals the title.

 _Memo: With Love To Him_

"Interesting name," Iwaizumi says. A few seconds pass before he remembers that Oikawa is no longer beside him.

The phantom silence drags him into recollections.

 _Oikawa stumbled into the guest bedroom, eyes bloodshot and hair unkempt. He was deprived of more than two days' worth of sleep._

 _"Iwa-chan!" Weary triumph leaked through his voice, "Take a look, I finished it!"_

 _Pushing back his chair, Iwaizumi carried himself to the edge of the bed, beside the crumpled and exhausted figure of the musician. He slipped the pages from Oikawa's hand and smoothed them out._

 _"_ Solace _, huh. You've started using one-word titles again," he comments. Oikawa gave a grunt of affirmation and flipped sideways, fixing his eyes on Iwaizumi, a hand draped lazily across his stomach._

 _Iwaizumi didn't understand musical notes, but he obediently followed the annotations line by line. It was their tradition. When Oikawa composed a piece, he always ran through it with Iwaizumi._

 _"I have no idea what these stand for, y'know," Iwaizumi told him, but the habit stuck._

 _He reached the last line. "Come," Oikawa said, heaving himself up, "let me play it for you."_

 _They went to the ballroom where the grand piano resided near the farthest wall. Iwaizumi sank into his chair and Oikawa took the bench. He uncovered the piano keys, then placed the file onto the stand._

 _A deep inhale, a moment to prepare, and then he began._

 _The first note was always the most distinct, a gentle blade that slices through the silence, like the call of a rooster just before dawn paints the sky._

 _This piece was a slow one, flowing as though a small brook, pouring from Oikawa's fingertips, pouring, filling, filling Iwaizumi's heart with a sort of a warmth. Eyes closed, he could still see Oikawa, body swaying in tune to the melody, eyes half-lidded but bright with zeal, fingers dancing a waltz on zebra stripes._

 _It was a brief yet mesmerising piece. The music waned gradually, coming to a beautiful end with a last shift of Oikawa's hand. They sat through a few beats of quiet._

 _"Was it good?" Oikawa asked, a yawn cutting the question short._

 _Iwaizumi stood and extended a hand to him, hauling him to his feet. "Yeah, it was amazing," he replied, as Oikawa slipped off the edge of consciousness and coherency. There, on Oikawa's face, was a soft smile of content._

Snatching up the file, Iwaizumi hurls it to his side with a snarl. It slams roughly against the wall. He hears his own strained breaths clear against the backdrop of silence.

A tomb of the better years of his life, the desolate room smoulder him with anguish and fear and despair.

Iwaizumi holds back a sob, body quivering with an overflow of emotions. He does not hold back his tears.

 _Oikawa, come back._

 _Please._

* * *

The contents of the envelope unsettles Iwaizumi more than his own memories. It is a letter by Oikawa– it has to be– but the handwriting is foreign.

He barely recognises a shaky 'Dear Iwa-chan', and the rest is lost to him, the words wild and illegible. Some of the ink had bled through to the other side and his fingers pick out dents on the paper.

Oikawa's penmanship is usually excellent, so what's with this?

In the past– months? Weeks?– he'd discovered so much of the unknown. His rationale is submerged underneath a murky lake of doubt. His past spared him no clues to Oikawa's disappearance. His present discoveries only serve to antagonise his mind.

There is a side to Oikawa Iwaizumi does not know. His best friend must have hid things from him.

A sense of betrayal descends on Iwaizumi, dark and festering.

 _Oikawa, was our trust a lie?_

He shakes the thought aside. There has to be a reason. They grew up together, he knows Oikawa like the back of his hand.

Iwaizumi observes the letter again. Maybe Oikawa didn't mean to hide anything, he just hadn't the chance to reveal it? Surely the letter holds a copious amount of importance. Iwaizumi clears his throat slightly.

"Dear Iwa–" he starts reciting, then stops, something beneath his chest twisting violently.

An alarm goes off and Iwaizumi slips out his phone in surprise.

 _Meeting at Owl Street Cafe, 1300_ , the phone reads.

He stares at it until the phone call that day comes back to him.

"You're a cop, get yourself together," Iwaizumi childes himself. There are more important things for him to settle than the fragments of the past.

He takes both file and envelope in hand. They weigh more than he thought they would– a heaviness of the heart, perhaps?

Opening his bag, Iwaizumi slides them inside to ponder over in his spare time.

It takes about twenty minutes on foot to Owl Street. The clouds gather in the sky and a damp coldness creeps into his jacket. _It's gonna rain soon_ , he thinks as the door opens with a little jingle.

"Hey, Cop Guy!" The barista waves.

Iwaizumi nods a greeting back, "Bokuto, I'll have the usual, thanks."

He finds a seat at the corner of the shop, partially shrouded in the shadows. It provides just the right amount of privacy and he sits down with a sigh.

The coffee scalds his tongue a little. Another jingle sounds from the door, diffusing his attention from the pain in his mouth. Ah, _he's_ here.

Kyotani takes but a few moments to survey the place before his eyes land on Iwaizumi. Ignoring Bokuto's greetings, he makes a beeline to the table.

They got acquainted a few years ago, when Iwaizumi was still in charge of nightly neighbourhood patrols. Kyotani was in his late teens then, working as an information broker for the various gangs and shady businesses in the city. It must've been something he leaked to parties he wasn't supposed to leak to. The two hooligans seemed hell-bent on 'teaching the damn kid a lesson', if his memory holds true.

Iwaizumi discovered them in a dark and isolated alleyway. By a stroke of luck, he managed to fight them off, and ever since then, Kyotani seemed to develop a sort of 'Alpha Dog' respect for him.

 _It does come in handy sometimes_ , Iwaizumi supposes.

Kyotani nods as he takes a seat, a greeting Iwaizumi is accustomed to. They still run into each other occasionally, what with their clashing occupations.

(Sometimes Kyotani leaves tips for him on the latest crimes in the city and sometimes Iwaizumi tells him to stay out of certain situations.)

Skipping the pleasantries, the man goes straight to business, "What do you need me for?"

"I need you to find out more about this symbol," Iwaizumi slides a piece of paper across the table, "We've been seeing this during murder investigations and I've no other choice but to come to you. If you require payment-"

"No need for that. Consider it a thanks for all those years ago," Kyotani cuts him off.

Iwaizumi doesn't try persuading him otherwise.

They go through a bit more about the technical details and Kyotani assures that he'll contact if important details surface.

As they part ways, ("Come again, Cop Guy!" Bokuto's voice floats from the counter) dark clouds have already gathered overhead. A strong wind circles Iwaizumi and he almost makes it home before the rain hits.

Iwaizumi takes a shower with one of Oikawa's composition playing on the speaker. His mind prods the web of clues that had his life entangled within.

He's sure that the truth is nearer than ever before.


	5. Chapter 5

"Kageyama?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I really love you."

Kageyama's hand stops in mid-motion. The eggs slide off his spatula slowly, making a sizzling sound as they hit the frying pan. Hinata sits at the table, shaking his head slightly. His orange curls swish in the air as he tries in vain to wake himself up. It is nine in the morning.

"...I know," Kageyama replies and turn his attention back to the eggs. They're a little burnt now, but he thinks it's still within the acceptable range for consumption.

Hinata looks up with a curious look. "That's not what people usually reply," he says, then continuing on in place of Kageyama's silence, "Hey, do you love me?"

Really, Hinata can't be blamed for such a blunt question. Lazy mornings tend to do that to people, Kageyama knows that much. He separates the eggs onto two plates, piling them up neatly, slowly.

As he reaches their table, Hinata repeats the question.

The chair groans when Kageyama takes a seat. He ponders for a moment, a fork in hand. Opposite, Hinata has already dug into his breakfast, slouching over his table with eyes half-open and mouth chewing slowly. His skin glows with the radiance of a good night's sleep. A canvas, Kageyama's mind supplies. Mostly echoes of the violent past; he shakes the thought away.

Hinata glances up, the beginning of a smile tugging the side of his lips. Kageyama fights the urge to squint.

Even the sun itself cannot compare to the brilliance of Hinata.

"Can't say I don't," he replies. This person is impossible to not love. (That's a universal fact.)

Hinata grins, "Sooner or later I bet I'll make you really fall in love with me."

 _Does it even matter_ , Kageyama thinks, _if you're already the most important in my life?_

* * *

The suits come around evening. Kageyama doesn't miss the awe on Hinata's face.

"We'll be wearing these to the party," he announces, a hint of pride welling up in his chest. Hinata nods, hands wringing the hem of his shirt, nervous and eager.

The party is in two day's time and Kageyama really, really does not want to show up. But networking would do him some good. Probably.

And anyways, Hinata said it would be rude not to go. _Would it?_ Kageyama wonders absently as he hangs the suits in their closet. He had never gotten an invitation before, so he wouldn't know much about parties, unfortunately. It's not like he can refer to Oikawa's recounts either. (At least Oikawa did train him properly when it comes to manners at formal events, although he did say it'll probably be useless, seeing that his student is practically a recluse.)

Kageyama is still musing the notion of declining the invitation when Hinata emerges out of the bathroom, drips of wet clinging stubbornly to his hair. He shuffles over and plops down beside Kageyama, who'd already taken a shower in the afternoon.

Kageyama catches a whiff of lavender. _Shame_ , he thinks, l _emon suited you more_. He flicks the damp hair a few times, sending lazy droplets through the air, curiously watching their trajectories. His finger is slick with bath water.

A thought crosses his mind– a passing thought, not strong enough to linger– but he feels a chill up his spine all the same.

Blood, his mind purrs, delighted by the notion. Kageyama bites his lips hard. No, those days are gone.

For a moment, the darkness outside the windows seems to stir, as though alive. He holds his breath.

"Hey, Kageyama," Hinata's voice shakes him out of his thoughts, "Can I kiss you?"

The question is addressed with such nonchalance that Kageyama does not process it for a handful of seconds. And when he does, it is as though someone pulled a rug out from under his feet, as though someone tilted his world until the oceans were over his head and he was wading through constellations.

"Um," Kageyama replies, overwhelmed.

Still looking ahead, Hinata adds hastily, "I mean, I was just asking, that's all." Liar. Like he didn't entertain the idea even a little bit, didn't have the slightest hope of Kageyama agreeing.

"Uh," Kageyama says again. Really, he knew this would come around someday. _Love is a powerful thing and you can't hope to stop it_ , Oikawa had told him once.

But he supposes he owes Hinata that much for staying.

"Yeah, alright," Kageyama shrugs– which might have come across as more of a shudder, what with his nerves– and Hinata opens his mouth to say something.

"It's okay. It was just a thought–"

"No, wait–"

"I don't wanna force you–"

"I'm not–"

Hinata gives him a smile that looks weak and forced. It was the same as those Kageyama saw on Oikawa's face sometimes, when he pretends he's alright but it isn't at all, when that condescending smirk cracks under pressure.

Kageyama is _done_ with those smiles.

"Dumbass," he huffs fondly and Hinata glares at him, eyes harbouring just a little bit of hope.

"I'm just surprised, that's all. Really." With his gaze stubbornly on the ground, Kageyama drapes one hand awkwardly over Hinata's shoulder and tentatively pulls the other closer.

Hinata dissolves into poorly-concealed giggles. "You're really awful at this," he notes with delight.

"Shut up and come here, stupid."

Kageyama's heart is definitely _not_ beating way too fast. And on a completely unrelated note: Who knew floors could be so captivating?

Hinata leans into him with a small sigh. "You sure you okay?" He asks, and Kageyama feels it in the crook of his neck.

"I don't know how to kiss," he declares, gaze now burning a hole in the ground, face a few degree Celsius too high.

Hinata giggles again, a sound Kageyama realises he's grown to love. "I don't want much, just a quick peck or something. Sugawara used to kiss me goodnight on the forehead back in the days I first lost my mother. I think it's nice."

Kageyama nods, too tense for his own liking. The frown on his face had eased into a small slight of his eyebrows, so that's a good start. He tries to sneak a peek at Hinata, but their eyes meet suddenly and he turns away so fast something in his neck might've snapped. A little agitated, he tells Hinata to close his eyes.

Hinata complies obediently, pink dust on his cheeks, mouth a delicate curve.

 _Okay, this isn't hard. It's like volleyball and I'm setting the ball straight into his face. Just with less force. Much less. And with my face instead of the ball. Okay, Tobio, calm down. Breathe._

Kageyama dips his head and places his mouth gently on Hinata's. It is nothing like volleyball.

He stays there for a fraction of a second, a little mystified by how lips can be so _soft_. Then, as he withdraws, Hinata splutters.

"Kageyama! T- that was, I meant–"

"Whaa?"

"On the mouth–"

"Didn't you say–"

"I meant like on the _cheeks_ or something!"

" _Dumbass_!" Kageyama roars. He shoves Hinata so hard the other falls over.

"You should have said that!" _God help me_ , he groans inwardly, burying his burning face into the cushion with all the thought of being swallowed up by the fabric forever.

Hinata squawks indignantly and the absurd sound transforms into another round of breathless laughter. Then he loops his hands around Kageyama's waist, nuzzling against his back.

"Hey, never said I didn't like it," he mumbles into the fold of the other's t-shirt, "Thanks."

Kageyama pretends that his face is perfectly fine, _because it is_ , and ignores him.

The night is beautiful.

* * *

It might've been fifteen, twenty minutes before Kageyama finally catches his eyelids drooping.

"Come on, we gotta sleep."

"Huh? But it's only eleven!"

"There's nothing 'only' about eleven, I'm tired."

"That's 'cause you did chores. I'm gonna stay up like an adult."

"Like an adult."

"Yeah, I can do whatever I want."

Kageyama pinches the bridge of his nose, "Go sleep already." His voice comes out somewhat harsher than expected. Hinata frowns.

"Hey, I've been listening enough to you already, gimmie a break," he pouts, voice half-serious.

On normal days, Kageyama would've given in and stay up as well, but he'd spent the whole day sorting out the remaining boxes in the apartment and cleaning up afterwards. He deserves rest.

"No, get up now," Kageyama bites, the lethargy finally getting to his head.

The previously playful mood dampens.

Hinata refuses to get up. "You're acting like some sort of high and mighty person, ordering me around like that. You're like... a proud noble."

Frustrated, Kageyama glares at him, thinking hard for his next words. He might have to cajole a little.

"No, a sire?" Hinata ignores him and continues, "a dictating sire? Or emperor? Sounds wrong... Wait no, I got it."

As Kageyama opens his mouth, a plea in the back of his throat, Hinata whips his head up and says in all seriousness, "Kageyama, you're a tyrant king!"

Kageyama freezes.

* * *

 _"You see him? That's the king. King of the Court."_

 _His fingers touched the ball. He had to win this game._

 _"Ever seen that freaky toss? That one nobody's ever spiked before?"_

 _I am going to win, then win, then win a thousand times more. The ball soared through the air, a magnificent arc. It was a perfect toss._

 _"I don't know how his teammates can put up with him."_

 _Instead of the sound of a spike, he heard a soft thud. When he looked back, there was no one behind him._

* * *

Kageyama's breath catches. He slams a foot forward and grabs Hinata by the shirt collar.

"Don't call me that!" His voice is distorted. (With rage? With fear? He wonders.)

Eyes wide, Hinata stares at him. "Kageyama, calm down! What's wrong with that?"

Kageyama releases him and pushes him back onto the couch. "Nothing, I– I need to sleep," he says roughly, a hand rubbing his face as he turns in the direction of the bedroom. A firm grip latches itself around his waist.

"Tell me, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Kageyama jerks his hand but it doesn't budge.

Hinata frowns, "I tell you stuff all the time, so tell me too!"

"If I say it's nothing, it's nothing! Just drop it already."

"You know what? You really are a tyrant. I'm not letting you order me around anymore," Hinata grinds out, eyes betraying the fury in him, but Kageyama doesn't see that.

All he sees is a whirlpool of jet black resentment, dragging him, dragging him down past all rationality.

His mind clouds with the addictive need for control.

 _(What a wonder it would be to grasp fate itself? To control a person's life or death, to control their fear and pain?)_

Kageyama's fingers pick up something beside him, the weight comforting and familiar.

 _Like a knife_ , he thinks, and raises it up above his head. A habit, really, when he forgets who Kageyama Tobio is supposed to be. Something else struggles in his left hand. His eyes cannot seem to focus. His lips feel like they're stretched into a thin line, thin as the sharp side of a blade.

The brilliant colours of a sunset flash past his mind.

He clenches the something in his hand tightly, and–

 _SLAP_

"Kageyama, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, okay?"

And he sees frightened eyes stare back up at him.

"Don't hurt me," Hinata begs, then apologised again. _Why is he apologising? What was I doing?_

In Kageyama's right hand is a remote control. He sees his left hand on Hinata's neck, the skin below already starting to bruise. He doesn't have to guess what almost happened.

Kageyama releases both hands, staggers back, and upon the clatter of the remote against the floor flees into the bedroom.

"Wait–"

The door slams shut.

* * *

When Hinata places his ear against the polished oak, he can hear wretched sobs coming from within the room. _Kageyama blames himself_ , Hinata knows, but he is helpless to do anything now, the brief lapse into madness still too raw, too real.

There is a lump in his throat and a weight on his heart.

Hinata takes a shuddering breath and sinks to the floor. He's tired, suddenly. Why couldn't he have been tired just a few minutes earlier? How cruel Fate is; just moments ago they were still alright, still– perhaps– more than just _alright_.

His bites his lips and tries to stop himself from shaking.

The floor is cold and unforgiving, although he cannot say he doesn't deserve it. After all, he, more than anyone, can tell when Kageyama needs a calming presence to anchor him to reality. That was Hinata's job, and he just failed his duty, utterly, despairingly.

Hinata falls asleep, lips tingling with the memory of the kiss and chest tight with the crushing weight of regret.

* * *

 _A/N: Forty more days to the big exam, I shouldn't be here. I will try to restrain myself._


	6. Chapter 6

It is ten-thirty in the morning when Hinata wakes. The ground beneath him is cold, the corner of the wall having cast a gloomy shadow over him and out of the reach of golden rays from the window. He pushes an elbow against the floor, propping himself up with a faint sort of confusion. Then he remembers.

The room behind Hinata harbours a solemn stillness, not unlike the one he feels when Kageyama tells him about the sad, sad pieces of his past.

He only ever shared unhappy memories, those that makes Hinata feel like crying, although he himself says that he's pretty apathetic about them so it's alright ( _It's not alright at all, poor Tobio_ ).

Hinata suspects that they are all Kageyama has, except volleyball, but they never talk about volleyball. They play though, by themselves and sometimes with people from Crows Corp.

It seems like Kageyama has no intention of leaving the bedroom, because when he peeks under the door his eyes meet nothing but darkness. Hinata gets up, washes his face at the kitchen sink and starts to make breakfast. It's too late to go to work; he'll call Kenma later.

The memory of the kiss is still as vivid, but now it feels seasoned with a generous dash of bittersweet. His hand trembles ever so slightly.

Hot cocoa is Kageyama's favourite drink (just a hunch, but it might be his comfort food too, if he even has any), so Hinata prepares two cups. Of course, breakfast isn't really breakfast without actual food, so he puts together two ham-and-cheese sandwiches.

Stepping back to the door, Hinata pauses, at a sudden loss for words, apprehension bubbling up inside him. _Be strong,_ he childes himself and knocks.

"Hey, Kageyama, are you awake?"

Silence.

"I know you're up. You're always up before me. I, um, made breakfast."

 _Don't trip over your words, Shou._

"You wanna come out? And eat?"

Still nothing.

"Um," Hinata's voice softens, "Alright then... I'll just eat first?"

The party is tomorrow, he remembers vaguely, but he is in no mood to celebrate. Hinata nibbles a corner of the bread. It tastes bland in his mouth and he swallows with some difficulty. _Had breakfast always been such a demanding chore_?

When he looks at the clock again, cup drained and plate empty, the time reads eleven.

Frowning, Hinata approaches the bedroom once more. "Hey, Kageyama, go eat your breakfast! You can't stay inside forever," he demands, a hand rapping loudly against the wood, "I'll knock down the door if I have to!"

A faint shuffling sounds from inside. _Good_ , he thinks. The door opens after a few moments and Kageyama trudges out, eyes rimmed with red and skin a sickly yellow. He doesn't look Hinata in the eyes.

"Morning," Kageyama greets, although Hinata's pretty sure he'd never heard such a weak excuse of a greeting before, except maybe that time Yamaguchi was treating a pretty serious injury of Sugawara's when Takeda-sensei was still on his way and gosh, it was way too early for such a bloody mess, even Tsukishima turned a deathly shade of pale, the scalpel in his hand shaking so badly he almost dropped it, but dammit, he's getting off tangent.

To be fair, that was a really bad morning; Hinata remembers the awful feeling of his insides twisting and squirming with anxiety. Exactly like, say, the way he feels now.

Hinata gives Kageyama a nod that he might've caught from the corner of his eye. _We'll talk later_ , Hinata thinks, _after you're done with the food._

He makes their bed and draws the curtains open, hoping to clear the gloomy atmosphere with bright morning sun. Pushing open the window helps, and he breathes in deeply. It's about time to change the pillow covers. He's gonna use the orange one this time, no matter what Kageyama says.

When Hinata emerges again, he finds Kageyama rinsing off the last cup.

"Hey," Hinata begins.

Kageyama flinches. "Toilet," he mutters.

Hinata says 'yeah, okay' and watches as Kageyama practically sprints into the safety of the bathroom, the cup piled haphazardly on their newly-washed utensils.

 _Well, the conversation can wait._ Hinata fiddles with the control of the washing machine until their laundry start to toss and turn inside. Then he waters the plants at the balcony. By the time he starts clearing off magazines from the coffee table, Kageyama finally comes out, looking much more like a living being than he was previously.

With a grunt, Hinata stands up, "Kageyama–"

But the other has already headed into the bedroom.

As he stands there debating to himself whether to go in, Kageyama strides out again and makes a beeline for the front door.

"Kageyama?"

The lock clicks open. A jingle of keys sound before they disappear, swallowed by the gaping jaw of a pocket.

"Kageyama, where are you going?"

When he receives no answer, Hinata tries again to elicit a response, any response.

"When are you coming back?"

And suddenly Hinata realises that he's never had to deal with this kind of silence before. Kageyama had always been a reserved person, even if it doesn't show most of the time. Hinata knows the attentive silence, and the thinking one, and the lazy one, and even the _are-you-stupid-oh-wait-you-are_ one (unfortunately), but _this_. He can't read this at all.

Worry gives way to a numbing panic, like the calm before a storm, and he is almost too afraid to ask anymore. He remembers his mother's voice, the day she left for that mission.

 _"Shou, be good, okay? We'll return by evening,"_ she had said, but it was a lie conceived without either of their knowledge.

"Will you... will you be coming back?"

The door is ajar and cold wind slaps Hinata roughly, but he barely feels anything. Kageyama pauses, a foot out of the apartment. His back is so near, so very near, and if Hinata were to reach out his hand he would be able to snag a handful of the inky black coat and yet he doesn't. He doesn't.

 _Don't go._

"Yeah," Kageyama say without a hint of reassurance and closes the door behind him like the heavy gates of a prison cell.

* * *

The cafe at Owl Street has a name. Or, rather, had a name. It was French, if he remembers correctly, but everyone's gotten so used to calling it 'Owl Street Cafe' that the owner actually went and changed the sign.

It is a quaint little shop, lodged into some discrete crack of the urban world, known by few and frequented by even fewer. Only those who appreciate the ambiance can learn to love the place. The price is a tad high, but he doesn't mind, because when business is slow he gets to stay there all day. (Plus, he's rich.)

Bokuto looks up when he enters. "Oho? Haven't been seeing you around lately, Tobio."

Few people call Kageyama by his given name, but Bokuto is an exception. There was that time Oikawa left Kageyama in the cafe to spend time with two other ladies he met on the way, then promptly forgot about Kageyama's existence. Bokuto gave him a free cup of caramel frappuccino to pass the time and spent six hours talking about the random and the mundane before a sheepish Oikawa came back to claim Kageyama. Ever since then, the cafe's been his favourite dwelling.

Kageyama sighs, "Yeah, been busy lately."

"Usually I'd say that sucks, but with you I can never tell. The usual?"

"Uh, no, may I have coffee instead? And make it black."

Bokuto pales.

"Black?" He echoes, eyes wide with horror, and it would've made Kageyama snort if he wasn't currently feeling so drained. He settles with a nod instead.

"It's bitter. _Hell-condensed-into-a-teacup_ bitter. Even Akaashi adds a little milk."

"I know," Kageyama replies, watching as Bokuto straightens with a frown.

"Bad day, kiddo? I mean, it's morning, but that's not the point."

"Yeah."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Uh–"

"We're gonna talk about it."

Kageyama sighs. He casts one last pitiful glance at the cafe (oh sweet peace) before following Bokuto into the kitchen.

"Akaashi, let's switch for a while!"

"Okay, Bokuto-san."

With that, Akaashi takes his leave, bringing with him the slim novel he had been reading a few moments ago.

Bokuto grins, "I think you need a caramel frappuccino. Don't worry, it's on me."

Kageyama doesn't try to argue, because they both know that Bokuto would never listen anyways. Instead, he settles with watching the older man work and thinking about the impending doom.

"There," Bokuto hands him a cup of pure sin, chilled to just the perfect temperature. Kageyama takes a sip and pretends he's not enjoying the taste of liquid sugar on his tongue.

"So, what's gotten you into a funk? It's Hinata, isn't it?" Bokuto drawls and takes in the way Kageyama chokes.

"How'd–"

"He's all you've been talking about lately, if you even come around at all. You go like ' _Hinata's a total dumbass you wouldn't believe what he did'_ and ' _I think Hinata would get along with you very well'_ and ' _I should get him to work here instead, he's a real good cook–_ "

"I didn't–"

" _Anyways_ , what's wrong with Hinata?"

Kageyama grows silent. Really, how should he explain it? While Bokuto is a trustworthy man, he is also a good man and good men like him don't keep secrets about other people's homicidal tendencies. At least, that's what Kageyama believes. He didn't even tell Bokuto the truth regarding Oikawa.

People always use owls to symbolise wisdom. Perhaps Bokuto is wise too, to a certain extent, because he tells Kageyama to think about it first while he prepares for lunch hours.

And so Kageyama thinks hard, the burden of another's anticipation off his shoulders.

Halfway through the caramel frappuccino, the frantic rummaging through his mental cabinets finally shows some results. He grabs Bokuto's attention.

"You ready?"

Kageyama nods, "Well... you know how my temper tends to flare up when I'm tired?"

"But that doesn't happen much, right?"

"When it does, things get ugly."

"Ouch, that sucks. Wait, you mean–"

"Yeah," Kageyama's voice wavers, "I did something I'm not supposed to do. It's bad. He's probably really mad right now. This morning he was quiet. He's never quiet, not in that way."

He stops, suddenly stricken by a terrifying notion, "Oh god, he probably hates me. He's not gonna tolerate me anymore. He's gonna– he's definitely going to move out. He'll _leave_ –"

"Tobio, calm down," Bokuto interrupts his panicked blabber with a frown, "Hinata doesn't sound like someone who'd do that."

"But I hurt him!"

"Did you do it on purpose?"

Kageyama shakes his head.

With a kind smile, Bokuto tells him, "I think Hinata knows that too. Tell you what, go apologise to him and make up for it."

"But–"

"Nuh uh, kiddo. You gotta say sorry. People are responsible for their actions, that's what Akaashi told me once when I poured coffee into someone's lap."

Too slow to stop himself, Kageyama snorts, "Sounds an awful lot like what you'd do."

Bokuto ignores the obvious insult, "Y'know, actions have consequences, and sometimes they can't be fixed with a 'sorry'. But we all gotta start somewhere, right?"

Sipping his drink, Kageyama mulls it over. "I guess?"

"Ohoho, you're getting it. Now go help me give this to Akaashi, and then you can head home to apologise properly. I'm sure he'll forgive you!" Bokuto gives him a hearty pat on the shoulder and hands him a bunch newly-washed silverware.

Kageyama mutters his thanks and hurries towards the entrance of the kitchen, leaving his half empty cup behind. It is quiet in here; he can already hear Akaashi talking with the customer from this distance.

"The usual, then?"

"Yes, thank you."

Kageyama stills, half of his body already out of the kitchen. From his peripheral vision he can see a perplexed Akaashi turning, but he neither mimics the action not offers an explanation.

Instead, Kageyama finds his whole attention arrested by the startled face of the one and only Iwaizumi Hajime.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _Apologies in advance for the ultra-late updates that's gonna happen. Although I've basically typed out the chapters already, I haven't had the time to spellcheck and tweak them, so please forgive me ๑•́ㅿ•̀๑) ᔆᵒʳʳᵞ_


	7. Chapter 7

A terrible migraine prompted Iwaizumi to take a day off, but that did not make him feel better. In fact, as he stares shocked at the sudden appearance of Kageyama Tobio, the splitting headache slams back into his head at full-force.

But he recognises a golden opportunity when he sees one, so as Kageyama turns around in a frantic stumble, presumably thinking about escaping via the back door, Iwaizumi himself dashes out of the cafe entrance to catch the teen.

* * *

"Eh?" Bokuto startles when Kageyama sprints past him. He almost got the first part of 'Tobio' out when the door slams open and his favourite customer disappeared.

 _What the hell_ , Kageyama cursed. The last person he would expect to be at the cafe showed up, and fate just had to make their path cross. It occurs to him belatedly that staying hidden in the kitchen instead might've been a better option. He swears again and risks a glance behind.

As a policeman, Iwaizumi possesses excellent strength and speed, which, paired up with years of training, gave him an obvious advantage over Kageyama when it comes to sprinting.

Kageyama's cold drive for survival forces the tendrils of panic to yield. He might not have speed, but he has agility and perception, perhaps more so than his pursuer, if he dares boast. When Kageyama sees the alley up front, one that possesses more twists and turns than he thought necessary, he bolts right in.

That is the first mistake he makes.

To his credit, Iwaizumi is _not_ someone with much agility, but he is, after all, someone of experience.

Iwaizumi darts in right behind Kageyama and reaches out his hand, fingers closing around the coat, then slipping as Kageyama hurdles over a few misplaced boxes. The side of a box jabs Iwaizumi in his ribs and slows him down just a little.

It is barely enough for Kageyama to clamber up a metal pipe to the second floor, where he balances precariously on the window still. Then he makes a little hop to the left, to the other window, and lands a little unstable, but enough not to fall.

"Kageyama Tobio!" Iwaizumi shouts at him, but said person is already at the third window. With a sinking heart Iwaizumi notes that he's aiming for an escape over the metal fences at the end of the alley. He grasps the fence and starts to heave himself up just a little too late.

Kageyama steps tentatively onto the top of the fence, body swaying a little, and Iwaizumi rattles the fence with all his strength, a desperate attempt to stall the teen.

Thrown off-balance, a yelp escapes Kageyama as he crashes down onto the pavement, feet first. He regains his footing, then takes off towards the main road. There is an obvious limp in his movements, which Iwaizumi recognises as a sprained ankle.

 _Good, that'll slow him down_ , Iwaizumi decides, making a small roll as he lands so as to not suffer the same fate.

Upon reaching the main road, however, he finds Kageyama disappearing into a taxi, a queue of disgruntled passengers-to-be grumbling to each other.

He catches part of their conversation, about how _the poor young man's brother is in the hospital, what can we do?_ and he knows Kageyama had them tricked. The taxi drives off and Iwaizumi cuts into the line hastily.

"Madam, I'm a police officer. I need to catch the guy who took your ride just now, please pardon my rudeness," he says, flashing his badge and climbing into the vehicle without waiting for a response. From the window he can see the woman giving him a poisonous glare.

"Where to, sir?"

"Follow that car," Iwaizumi points at the taxi drawing further and further away by the second, "Please don't lose it."

The engines sputter a little, then the car takes off onto the road. Iwaizumi closes his eyes and heaves a small sigh. In his hand is his old leather wallet; in that wallet the little surplus from his monthly paycheck. And he wonders why he's trying so hard, going to such an extent, when a memory of Oikawa flashes past his weary mind.

* * *

 _Oikawa sat down, fingers splayed over the monochromatic controls, fringe casting a shadow over half his face._

 _"Oikawa?" Iwaizumi rarely saw him like this. It usually happened the rare times he was the one being dumped. Rare, since he almost always broke off the relationship first. Iwaizumi didn't understand; Oikawa never was serious about them anyway, he never showed a hint of wanting to settle down. Sometimes Iwaizumi wondered if he had been reading Oikawa wrong all these while._

 _Oikawa lifted his head and Iwaizumi knew immediately that the calm exterior was just a facade; his eyes_ burned _, and it was not a good kind of burning. Wild, furious, jealous–_

 _When Oikawa smashed his fingers down, a terrible noise– terrible in its beauty– shattered the silence. Iwaizumi couldn't look away, not even if he wanted to._

 _This was a piece that Oikawa had been playing recently, the same one he performed when he was exhilarated, when he was grievous, when he was a shell of something bigger than he could control. Always the same piece, yet never the same. There were minute changes made to it, that much Iwaizumi could tell._

 _Then violent melody gave way to a dolorous pressing of keys, mostly black, solemn like a funeral._ A shift of mood _? Iwaizumi wondered. The last time he heard it, this part was serene, not heavy._

 _Oikawa didn't dwell on the sorrowful, and with a flick of wrists the music picked up speed again, this time sounding of spring, of pure, unadulterated joy. Passion weaved in and out of music, erupting from the pianist's deft fingers in rivulets, and Iwaizumi almost forgot to breathe._

 _When he looked at Oikawa's face, he realised that the man was crying._

* * *

The mansion is the last place Kageyama would ever want to visit, but he doesn't have much of a choice. If he were to go back to the apartment, he'd put Hinata in danger.

Going back to Oikawa's place is the second mistake he makes that day, although he doesn't know it yet, and it will in the long run both ensure his escape and allow for something much more terrible to happen.

Kageyama looks back again. The damned taxi is still following them, no matter how Kageyama tries to throw it off his trail, and he's willing to bet his life that Iwaizumi is in the passenger's seat.

He hopes that his pursuer doesn't have as good a knowledge of the mansion as him. He grew up there, after all.

The taxi pulls over and Kageyama dumps a wad of bills on the driver's lap. "Thanks," he mutters over the man's overwhelmed gestures. Already the other vehicle is pulling up beside the road. Kageyama absconds.

The pain from the sprained ankle is bearable– that was nothing serious, just a small twist.

With the thought in mind Kageyama throws open the mansion door _(it's unlocked, thank goodness)_ and hears the slam of a car door.

He catches a glimpse of Iwaizumi before the heavy doors slam shut again. Kageyama slides the bolt in place– and just in time too, because a bang sounds from the doors. Another, and then it stops.

 _I shouldn't stay around_ , Kageyama decides, eyeing the stairs that lead up to his old room. As he heads towards it, the chilling sound of a key inserting into a lock reaches his ears. _Iwaizumi has the keys_?

Now realising just how much more dire the situation has become, Kageyama makes for a desperate attempt to get up to the second floor, when Iwaizumi steps inside.

The policeman zeroes in on his retreating figure and gives chase. And so they go, bounding up the steps, breath ragged, with Iwaizumi closing the gap slowly but surely. Upon reaching the corridor of the top floor his hand shoots out and this time grasps the hem of Kageyama's long coat.

With the sudden ferocity of a cornered animal Kageyama digs his heels into the ground and slams his entire body backwards, catching Iwaizumi by surprise. They stagger, Iwaizumi falling, and Kageyama pulls away before he has the time to react. Iwaizumi makes another attempt to hold on to Kageyama, his hand snagging the pocket this time. Kageyama jerks violently.

 _RIP–_ the pocket tears at the seams and he disappears down the corridor into what Iwaizumi knows as his old bedroom.

* * *

Kageyama pats his pockets until muffled jingles respond. _Good, he didn't get the pocket with my house keys_ , he thinks, relieved. The sound of the doorknob jiggling brings Kageyama back to the present. Iwaizumi must be trying to open the locked door. Although he has the mansion keys ( _God knows why. It must've been Oikawa._ ) he can't possibly hold a copy of this bedroom key as well. Oikawa did conceal his existence well after all.

"Kageyama Tobio," The man shouts from the other side, "I just want to talk!"

 _Yeah, like anyone would believe you. Try saying that before chasing me like a madman._

Kageyama keeps his mouth shut, because _anything and everything you say can and will be used against you_. He opens the window instead. The clouds hang low in the sky, a sign of incoming rain.

"I want to know about Oikawa Tooru," Iwaizumi continues, loud enough to hear. Kageyama flinches at the name. He makes a quick assessment of the structure of the mansion and confirms that it is still intact.

"You know what happened to him, don't you?"

Kageyama steps onto the metal frame of the window, his good foot first, then the other.

"The 'trip around the world' was a lie, I know Oikawa would never leave just like that!"

A hand on the protruding ledge just below the rooftop, Kageyama pushes his feet against the window frame and puts one leg up onto the window pane. The rain chooses the worse possible moment to strike; he can feel droplets on his face already.

A foot slips and he screams. Outside the door, words morph into alarmed banging.

Kageyama finds his footing again against a metal pipe running down the wall. When he was younger, he used to climb by this way as well. Oikawa had called it 'flirting with death', but gave up attempts to stop him after seeing that it was futile. He remembers it now, one feet wedged between metal and cement, the other on the window pane. Focusing the weight on his hands, Kageyama shifts them towards the direction of the metal pipe, where he knows a railing is. His fingers close around the stainless steel and he tests its stability. _Good, still attached_. Surprising as it may be, that was a gift from Oikawa.

( _"At least let me feel like I'm keeping you safe, Tobio-chan. It would be really stupid for you to fall to your death like that."_ )

He takes his right foot off the window pane and swings it up onto the rooftop, biceps trembling from exertion. Kageyama tries to twist his left foot free, but his feet must've grown since he last climbed this route, because it doesn't unstuck.

And then he hears wood splinting. A deep curse sounding from inside the bedroom.

It's Iwaizumi.

Kageyama, frantic, struggles as silently as he can manage. In a moment of panic he bends his ankle the wrong way– _SHIT OUCH_ – but it's finally loose and he drags his body onto the roof. The rain pelts down on him, hard.

Below, Iwaizumi glances around. Kageyama might be hiding here, but a quick check renders the thought useless. He looks out of the window and assess the drop. _No way, the kid will break his bones_. The rain makes it hard to see, so he squints and looks about instead. There are windows to the other rooms; perhaps Kageyama escaped into one of them? Or maybe he climbed down from the pipe and ran off?

"Either way, he's not here anymore," Iwaizumi mutters, frustration laced in his voice. He leaves the room to search the mansion, hoping that Kageyama is still somewhere inside.

Unbeknown to him, Kageyama has all the intention of staying on the roof until the rain wears off. He tests his injured foot– then gives up with a low hiss of pain. _It's useless for now_ , Kageyama decides. He crawls towards the stairs leading down into the mansion and swings the flimsy metal gate open. The stairs are safe; the door at the bottom is locked from the other side by a heavy padlock Oikawa put there. Actually, now that he thinks about it, the first time Kageyama ventured here was out of curiosity and the need for a challenge, so it's kinda Oikawa's fault that he's doing these death-defying things.

Kageyama huddles around the midsection of the stairs, coat off, watching a spider build its web on the ceiling of the passageway. Occasionally he can hear footsteps on the other side of the door, but it never stops there. Time passes slowly and he falls asleep in the cold.

When Kageyama wakes, the rain has already ceased. He stands to his feet wobbly, weight on one leg, and limps up the steps with a hand on the wall. Outside, the sky is the colour of Hinata. He knows that it will get dark soon. It's time to go home.

 _"Home is where the heart is," Oikawa tried to teach him once. "Where is your heart, Tobio-chan?"_

 _When he answered volleyball, Oikawa's gaze grew steely cold._

 _Kageyama never understood why his tutor's smile looked so pained, and he never dared to ask._

Picking up his coat, Kageyama shrugs into it. The fabric is mostly dried now, so it's not too bad. He checks again to make sure his keys are there.

Kageyama waits a few minutes more, eyes peering carefully over the edge of the roof. Gut instinct tells him that Iwaizumi had gone away, so he starts to think of a way down.

Half of the window is open. His left foot is injured.

Kageyama grabs the ledge and swings his body down directly over the window. Then he propels it forward, backwards, forward, backwards, building up momentum, and with a surge of courage he lets go of the ledge while his heart pummels.

Feet first, Kageyama slams into the desk, and before gravity brings him down he pushed the walls and tumble in.

Pretending that his voice wasn't an octave higher when he screeched, Kageyama lies on the dusty floor, in too much pain to move. The fire in his feet dies down after a while and he tries getting up again. A throbbing headache invades his mind and he feels the world spinning around.

Going down the stairs is no easy feat, and multiple times he almost fell to his death. Upon reaching the ground floor, Kageyama hobbles his way out and to the gate, where he leans against rusty metal to catch his breath. He shivers when a cold wind blows past him, and the shiver doesn't stop. A slow and agonizing journey to the main road took place _(curse the mansion for it's location_ ), then Kageyama flags down a taxi out of sheer luck.

On the way back, he digs in his pants pocket until he finds a small wad of rolled-up cash and counts the amount needed for the ride. _I really should get a wallet, everything's all over the place_. It was hard to find a design that he likes, so he's never really gotten around to buying one.

Kageyama reaches their apartment. It's night. He's incredibly tired, yet he can't seem to bring himself to enter. What had Bokuto told him? Apologise? Yeah, he'll apologise, but _how_?

His body threatens to give up on him, so Kageyama clenches his jaws and unlocks the door. Then he opens it as casually as he can manage with a twisted ankle.

Hinata gets up from the couch as soon he enters. The mere sight of the ginger calms Kageyama's anxious heart, even for just a fraction of a second, and he wonders if this is what home feels like.

"Kageyama, where were you–" the voice dies in Hinata's throat when his roommate collapses, a low groan of pain escaping from him.

"Oi, don't die yet!" Hinata attaches his hands to Kageyama's coat and pulls the exhausted teen all the way to the bedroom, then props him against the bed. When the light comes on, he finds his first aid kit. By then, Kageyama is already halfway delirious from fever and pain.

"Kageyama, you're burning! Were you out in the rain? What were you even doing?"

"Out... on the roof."

"The roof? What roof?"

"Oikawa's roof."

"What are you even doing up there?"

"I couldn't jump down..."

"Why would you jump down?!"

"The police will get me if I don't."

"Kageyama, what exactly did you do?"

"I drank a caramel frapi– frapra– frappu–"

"Caramel frappuccino?"

"Mhmm yeah, that one."

"I don't think policemen arrest people for drinking those stuff, even if it's sinful," Hinata furrows his brows.

Kageyama whines, a little frustrated, "Hinata, my ankle, it hurts."

Hinata looks at where Kageyama is pointing. It's already swelled up, so he gets an ice pack from the fridge. As Hinata treats him, they resume talking. (Talking gibberish on Kageyama's part, but at least it's civil conversation.)

"Kageyama, how'd you get this injury?"

"I fell from a fence."

"A fence! What on earth were you–"

"Was escaping."

"... Uh, right. Of course."

Kageyama frowns. "Hey, I ran so I can come back, okay?" he huffs.

"Come back?" Hinata asks.

"If I didn't Iwaizumi would've got me."

"Iwaizumi? Did you two run into each other?"

"Yeah, cafe."

"So that's why you were drinking a frappuccino!"

Shaking his head, Kageyama looks down with a slight frown, "I wasn't drinking it for him. I was drinking it for _you_."

Hinata finds himself stuck between uncontrollable laughter and tears of exasperation. "For me?" He bites down a giggle. _Oh man, this is so, so absurd._

"Yeah, listen... Uh, the caramel frappuccino guy told me–"

"Wait, who?"

"–told me that he poured a drink on someone–"

"!"

"–but someone else made him apologise so I'm apologising to you–"

"Wait what?"

"–on _my own. Free. Will_ ," Kageyama emphasises, finger jabbing the floor with each syllable. One poked Hinata's calf but he didn't seem to notice.

Then Kageyama looks up, straight at Hinata with eyes slightly glazed over, and to be honest Hinata finds him absolutely terrifying right now (but don't ever tell him that).

"Hinata Shouyou, please forgive me," he says with only the slightest bit of slurred speech and Hinata cocks his head, "Huh what?"

"Dumbass, don't spoil the mood!"

"Eek, sorry!"

"Don't apologise!"

"Sor– I mean no!"

"Okay, shhhhh. I'm sorry for trying to kill you yesterday."

This surprises Hinata. He wants to say 'nah, I'm the one at fault here' or 'yeah you should be', but Kageyama looks so serious, so he says 'yeah, okay' instead.

And then hastily adds a belated, "You're forgiven."

After he said those two words, it seems as though Kageyama's whole body loosens from some unknown tension. His shoulders sag, a small sigh escapes, and Kageyama topples forward until his head rests on Hinata's shoulders. His hands grab the fabric of the other's shirt, pulling him closer into a half-hug.

"Ehh, Kageyama?"

"Thanks for not being mad."

 _Kageyama's forehead is burning up, and yet he's still thinking about this?_ Hinata feels a lump in his throat. He shakes the thought away and gets to his feet. "Kageyama, come on. You should take a bath."

"I wanna sleep..."

"No, if you've really fallen from a fence and went onto a roof and got drenched by the rain, then you should get yourself cleaned up. I'm not letting you onto the bed like this."

Kageyama grumbles, but latches himself over Hinata's shoulders and stays like that all the way to the bathroom.

"Go in first and start washing up, I'll get your clothes," Hinata suggests as he left Kageyama in the shower area with a plastic stool.

When he comes back, Kageyama is standing slumped against the side of a wall, body still fully clothed.

"Oi, take off your clothes," Hinata orders. Kageyama glances up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Not like that! Bakageyama!" is all Hinata manages to scream out before Kageyama interrupts.

"Help me."

"Er, what?"

The feverish teen pushes himself upright, takes a step, then crumples into Hinata with a pained gasp, who staggers under the weight.

"I'm gonna faint," he forces out in between pants. Hinata has never seen him this sick before. He sits the taller one down on the plastic seat.

"Kageyama, stay with me!" And with a shout that sounds suspiciously like a war cry Hinata unleashes a torrent of ice cold water onto an unprepared Kageyama.

"HINATA!"

"Wah! Don't shove–"

"What the hell–"

"I thought you're gonna pass out?"

"Yeah well, I'll drown you first!"

In the end, Kageyama really does pass out, leaving a soaked and horrified Hinata to deal with _Operation Clean Kageyama_.

* * *

 _A/N:_ _I'm sorry for the long wait! I'll try to update regularly now that the major exam season is over. Things are picking up speed and growing intense; the next chapter will be one hell of a ride!_

 _And as always, please enjoy!_


	8. Chapter 8

Kageyama wakes up to an armful of Hinata. He tries to shift and sit up, but Hinata rolls to face him.

"Rise and shine, your majesty!" Brown eyes peer out from a flop of orange, too bright to have just woken up.

Kageyama stares at him, then tries to move again. His left leg twitches and pain shoots up from the ankle. "Ouch," Kageyama hissed.

"Hey, careful," Hinata scolds, "It was pretty nasty yesterday. Where'd you go anyways? You came home with a high fever and a sprained ankle."

 _Yesterday?_ Kageyama frowned. _I went to Owl Street Cafe, then..._

"I– Did I–" he chokes when last night's conversation comes back to him. "Did I really–"

"Sure did!" Hinata laughs, "Gosh, you were so cute, what's with that ' _I drank it for you_ '? I'm so touched–"

Kageyama shoves him. "Shut up!" He groaned, but there is no real bite to his voice. When Kageyama looked down, something strange suddenly occurs to him.

"Hinata, aren't these the pants I wore yesterday?"

Said teen looks away, "Uhm..." He fidgets with the hem of the blankets nervously. Kageyama gives him a long look, then goes back to inspecting himself. The shirt on him is a blinding yellow, which he immediately identifies as the one Hinata bought as a joke. He'd rather die than wear it outside of their apartment. Frowning, Kageyama brings a leg up and sniffs the fabric.

"Hey, this smells like our soap."

"Ahaha..."

A long beat of silence passes between them, then Kageyama's eyes widen in understanding.

"...Wait, Hinata. Did you seriously give me a shower with my pants on?"

"Sorry...?"

"HINATA!"

* * *

Iwaizumi slouches in one of the chairs at Owl Café. His fingers play with the edge of a small rectangular card, black and dull, save for the symbol on one side.

 _A large 'C' and a small 'x'._ The exact same symbol he had been investigating for so long.

He sighs. The chancing upon this card was not unwelcomed, but so far it only served to muddle up his brain further. Until Kyotani comes back to him with more information, he can only speculate that the symbol stands for some sort of organisation tied to various seemingly random killings.

The cup of coffee adjacent to his right arm has probably already gone cold. Bringing it to his lips, Iwaizumi winces internally. _Yup, cold coffee sucks._

What sucks more right now, however, is the growing number of failed attempts to link the scattered clues together. The card had tumbled out of Kageyama's ripped pocket, to his immense surprise, but he cannot for the life of him figure out where the teen fits into this mess. _Is Oikawa involved as well?_ He waves that thought away; first, he should figure out the deal with Kageyama Tobio.

The first lunchtime customers are starting to come into the cafe. In the growing din, Iwaizumi finds it much harder to think properly. With a groan he flicks his pen onto the table and settles his tired gaze on the notebook covered by messy words and lines, evidences of his futile brainstorming.

A sense of longing strikes him, and Iwaizumi suddenly wishes for the company of a certain best friend. Oikawa loves to listen to him talk about work, even though he never showed any interest in mystery novels. Sometimes the man even helped him to piece together obscure details from tough cases. Stricken by nostalgia, Iwaizumi finds his hand toying with the edge of the notebook; with a resigned sigh he flips to the back and extracts the letter from the small folder on the cover.

 _To Iwa-chan_ , it taunts.

For the past few days he's been carrying it around in his bag, together with the piano piece _Memo: With Love To Him_. It seemed dangerous to leave such precious things in his apartment, even though he knew the fear to be irrational.

Iwaizumi is just about to take out the letter and read it (or rather, try to, for the millionth time), when his phone interrupted with a call.

"Hello," he answers it curtly.

Kyotani goes straight to the point, "Listen, time is tight, where do I meet you?"

"I'm at the _Owl's Cafe–_ "

"Okay, don't leave. I'll be there at two." With the rushed reply, Kyotani hangs up on Iwaizumi, who by now has figured out that this must be about the symbol.

He looks at the card again. The dull surface makes it impossible to leave fingerprints, and the symbol engraved on it shines orange under the light of the cafe.

Oikawa's stupid grin unexpectedly comes to mind.

 _They were at a high class restaurant, one with a name that Iwaizumi couldn't even read, let alone pronounce. Couples loitered about the streets outside, taking advantage of a Valentine's Day atmosphere to indulge in romantic strolls. Above, the streetlights were unblinking stars illuminating their paths, warm glow adding much to the cosy feeling._

 _That morning found Oikawa broken hearted, yet by noon he had already recovered from the terrible ordeal, and somehow Iwaizumi ended up being dragged along to a fancy restaurant when evening came, the incentive being that Oikawa would pay for both of them. It was a recurring thing; Oikawa is always somehow single when the annual holiday rolled around, as is Iwaizumi, and the money Oikawa had 'planned to spend on some girl' would instead be used to pay for their meals._

 _The food must have been good, but he wasn't one with much of a refined taste, so even if it were mediocre he would not have noticed. While waiting to be served, Iwaizumi wondered aloud, "You should spend this day with your girlfriend and break up after instead."_

 _Upon Oikawa's surprised expression, he explained, "Then you can at least let them enjoy Valentine's Day too. A happy memory's a happy memory, no matter what happens after."_

" _Ah," Oikawa grinned, "But that means you'll be all alone, with nobody to love you on such a special day, right?"_

 _The comment earned him a kick in the shin. "I'll get a girlfriend someday!" Iwaizumi complained, "And I'll spend Valentine's with her instead of you."_

" _If we're judging by the way you look, I'd say you'll have to wait until pigs fly."_

" _How 'bout I send you flying instead?"_

 _Oikawa laughed, and the signature stupid grin graced his face. "How rude, Iwa-chan," the grin softens a fraction, "but I much prefer your company to anyone else's, to be honest, and I'm glad I get to spend today with you."_

 _Before Iwaizumi could get a word in, the waitress served their food, and whatever questions he had was pushed aside and forgotten in favour of their empty stomachs._

Iwaizumi sighs for the umpteenth time that day. The unwelcomed recollections sting like old wounds reopened, and every justly founded fear of Oikawa no longer being in this world adds salt to the wound.

Akaashi comes around to his table, "Need a refill?" he asks gently. The man seems to have an uncanny talent in pinpointing other people's moods. _Must've been because of Bokuto and his mood swings_.

Pushing the cup nearer, Iwaizumi nodded, "Yeah, thanks." Even his own voice sounds like that of a burdened man's.

He sighs again.

* * *

"Kageyama, you can't find your card?"

"No," said teen furrowed his brows in confusion, "but it's probably nothing big, I must've forgotten it in the apartment."

"Tsk, you're so absentminded. I brought mine; we can use that instead," digging into his bag, Hinata retrieves a card, dull and black, and swipes it on the discrete scanner.

"Ready?"

"No," Kageyama deadpans.

"Let's go," Hinata takes his hand and pulls the both of them into the headquarters entrance.

* * *

Kyotani arrives on the dot, just like he'd promised. Iwaizumi's fifth cup of coffee lies cold and undisturbed beside the suitcase that he sets down on the table.

"What's so urgent–" the policeman barely gets a word in before he is cut off by an agitated Kyotani.

"Look," he says, "this might be your only chance at pinning them down. The symbol belongs to a hitmen organisation; they go by the name Crows Corporation.

"They have an extensive network all over the country, but the headquarters is in this area. Usually security would be tight but there's apparently a party of sorts going on, and if you want to strike now would be a good time.

"I couldn't get the names of the members- no time- but here's the address of the headquarters. It's under Sakanoshita- y'know, that obscure convenience store near here? They have an entrance in the storage room. You need a card to enter."

"Like this one?" Iwaizumi holds up Kageyama's card.

Kyotani, surprised, confirms, "Yeah. I was gonna suggest you break down the wall, since I wasn't able to get you one.

"Anyways, once you're inside you should be alright. Not really any sort of surveillance, from what I've heard. They'd be at the party anyways.

"I have a rough blueprint of the layout. It's not the best, but it's better than nothing."

He hands Iwaizumi a piece of paper with the approximate layout of the place recorded in pen. Markings identify the various rooms apparently present and Kyotani points at one circled by a highlighter.

"They'd be here, where the party is in full swing. I'd say there's about ten plus people. If you want to catch them off-guard you should go now, when the security is still lax and the last of the latecomers have just arrived."

"So," Iwaizumi gestures, "all these under a small convenience store?"

"Unlikely but true," Kyotani shrugs, "the question is, do you have a gun?"

Even though he's off duty now, Iwaizumi still carries one around, as well as a pair of handcuffs and required legal documents in his bag. After all, a competent policeman should be prepared at all times, no?

He thanks Kyotani, promising to cite him as an anonymous tipper when he writes the police report.

Iwaizumi leaves immediately. _Sakanoshita_? _I've been there a couple of times, haven't I? They seem so normal._

Kyotani walks with him to the place. The plan is for Iwaizumi to slip in undetected while Kyotani distracts the cashier.

The street-smart man enters the store first. Iwaizumi watches as he grabs a couple packet of beers and trudges to the counter. His entire appearance changes, and Iwaizumi watches with interest as the cashier cowers below the looming man.

He sneaks in and catches a few bits and pieces of the heated argument. _More like bullying_ , he decides, but there's more pressing matters and he continues on his way.

From his peripheral vision he sees Kyotani storming out just as he enters the storage room. _A card scanner... a card scanner…_ After a couple of failures, he finds the real device in a corner of the room, hidden by an expertly placed rag.

Iwaizumi sends a text to Tanaka: _The symbol is Crows Corporation, hitmen. Details later. Bring backup; I'm in the headquarters. Address is…_

Making sure that it's been sent, the policeman steadies his breathing and steps into the inky blackness of the headquarters.

The place is dark, the only light source being that at the end of the tunnel, where a small foyer should be. Iwaizumi checks the map under the glow of his phone. Gun in one hand, he creeps to where a corridor extends from about halfway through the pitch black tunnel and manoeuvres carefully down a flight of stairs. Below, the dim lighting from fluorescent lamps allows limited vision. His steps make no sound.

Iwaizumi takes a couple of turns before noises reach his ears. _Must be the party_ , he realises, and stuffs the map into his bag. Gun in hand, he inches to the door slightly ajar steadies his heart, and flings the door open.

"You're under arrest! Hands up or I'll shoot!"

The function room is small yet finely decorated and he wonders briefly how such a place underground can look so high-class.

Kageyama and Hinata are here too, and his heart clenches at the thought of the ginger's arrest. The boy always looked so cheerful and free; he shouldn't be here.

"You are surrounded, please cooperate with me."

Faintly he is aware of a presence, one that he is well-accustomed to.

"Hey, boss," Tanaka greets.

Iwaizumi, secretly relieved, asks him, "How's the backup? I'll explain things back in the police station. We–"

"No, boss." _The man sounds pained,_ Iwaizumi muses briefly before the weight of those two words hit him.

"I'm sorry," Tanaka says as he puts a gun to the back of Iwaizumi's head.

* * *

With a faint horror Kageyama realises that he must have dropped the card during the mad chase in the mansion, and even though he cannot figure out how the man had found out about Crows Corporation, the heavy weight of guilt still crashes down on him hard.

"I'm sorry," Tanaka says, a gun on the back of Iwaizumi's head and Kageyama wants to scream _Aren't we all? For every life we kill, aren't we always so very sorry?_ but he keeps his mouth shut, the way he did all those years ago when the very first murder was committed.

Iwaizumi's eyes are still trained on them, gaze betraying a deep sorrow. And although the current turn of tables finally catches up to him and his broken whisper sounds painfully like _Why, Tanaka?_ his weariness only seems to pile on.

Tanaka exhales, "There is no backup, please drop your weapon on the floor," and Iwaizumi follows dutifully.

Kageyama knows how this will go; they would have to silence the man, and there is only one foolproof way he knows of that works. Iwaizumi looks like he knows it too.

"Wait," Iwaizumi requests, "there's something I need to understand first." Tanaka gives a sound of affirmation and he continues, staring straight at Kageyama, "Tell me, what happened to Oikawa all those years ago? Where is he now?"

Feeling the words roll thickly off his tongue, Kageyama replies, "Oikawa is dead."

The room falls under a deadly silence, and all eyes turn on Kageyama. He, however, keeps his face void of emotions and eyes dead set on Iwaizumi, who gives a small shake of head.

"... I'm sorry?" Iwaizumi asks, seemingly not understanding the words.

Kageyama meets his eyes- wide and disbelieving- and says, "Oikawa is dead. I killed him."

He knows he should stop now, he should keep quiet and shut his stupid goddamned mouth and give the man some time even as Iwaizumi asks ' _how?'_ more to himself than to him but all those years of pent-up frustration burst forth like water from a dam finally destroyed and his voice rises at Iwaizumi's staggering form,

"I killed him! I killed the man who was my mentor! His blood is on my hands and it was a cold-blooded murder and he's dead now, he's been dead for years–"

It would be wise to note that, when faced with extreme emotional pressure, a man at times may not be a man any longer, and he would do things he never dreamt of doing. Moral boundaries, social standing and the likes may be very well thrown out of the window. Grief and anguish have that effect on people, so to say. Something dies in the heart, and a monster is born from it.

Mind blank, pupils constricted to an impossible size, Iwaizumi sees himself swoop down low, feel the gun in his hand. He wonders if he pulled the trigger, and decides that he must have, because recoil from the gun pushes him backwards. He stumbles. Amidst the silence he hears the beginning of a scream and then everything goes black.

* * *

As Tanaka slams the back of his gun down hard on Iwaizumi's head, Kageyama screams.

Vaguely he remembers a hard shove from the side, then he is on the floor and someone is on the floor beside him and there was a gunshot, wasn't there? And something wet is on his clothes, on his fingers sleek with crimson and he screams.

Kageyama's mind catches up with his eyes and he understands what he is seeing; the bright orange on the floor beside him, not moving, blood pooling below and staining the both of them, and he screams even louder.

 _Takeda-sensei's hand? Is that the doctor's hand? Why is he holding Hinata? Where are they going? Is that a stretcher? So loud, it's so loud–_

There are hands at his sides too, on his shoulders; Sugawara is hugging him, saying something, saying something that his ears cannot hear, he needs Hinata to calm him down where is Hinata where is Hinata _where is Hinata whERE IS HINATA_ –

Kageyama chokes on his spit and the screaming stops abruptly, morphing instead into strangled gasps and Sugawara rubs his shoulder blades soothingly and says _Calm down Kageyama_ over and over again. He stares at his hands. They are red and they tremble.

"Kageyama, I need you to look at me," Sugawara soothes. When he doesn't receive a reply the man tries again, "Kageyama."

Kageyama tears his eyes away from all the blood, the mess, and fixes a shaky gaze on the calm grey. A hand strokes his face gently.

"Kageyama, can you stand?"

He tries his legs after a moment. Grabbing Sugawara's arm tightly he heaves himself up, almost collapsing again.

He leans on the man, who guides him slowly to the chairs. Yamaguchi comes around and hands him a drink. "Alcohol, to steady your nerves," he explained.

Kageyama takes a few small sips before his stomach constricts and his lunch threatens to come up.

"Hinata, he– he pushed me," Kageyama stutters, "he knew I would be shot. He pushed me."

Sugawara simply looks at him with sympathy.

"If– if I hadn't said all those things he– it's my fault– God, I should be the one shot–"

"Kageyama," Sugawara cuts him off sternly, "no one deserves to be shot. Don't say it's your fault."

"But–"

"Protecting you was his choice. You might think it's a terrible choice, but wouldn't you do the same for him?"

"I–" Kageyama stops short. _I would. I'd take a thousand bullets for him, if it means that he gets to live._

Feeling lost all of a sudden, Kageyama buries his head in his hands, "Tell me, what should I do now?"

This time it is Yamaguchi who answers, "You wait, and you have faith in us. We'll make sure he pulls through." He gives Kageyama a confident nod, then sets on his way to the operating theatre. Evidently the discussion is over; life is at stake here, and all hands will be needed for the operation.

For the first time in his life, Kageyama takes a deep breath and allows himself to believe in the abilities of other people.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Readers at might not know it, but I wrote this story (and the prequel) with asexual aromantic Kageyama and asexual Hinata in mind, so if the relationship between these two seem a bit unusual it should be intended! (but haha a relationship between a hitman and a serial killer is unusual enough)_

* * *

Lights.

Iwaizumi blinks his eyes, disoriented. A ceiling swims into focus. Dimly he is aware of the scraping of a chair, the sound of footsteps, then Tanaka's face comes into his view.

"Hey, boss, how're you feeling?" Iwaizumi almost doesn't catch the words, the greeting washing over his consciousness like waves.

Tanaka takes a seat beside the bed. _I am lying on a bed?_ He tries to move his hands but finds one of them chained to the wall on his left.

"So, uh. I was supposed to, y'know, shoot you, but I guess I freaked out when you shot Hinata? And then Kageyama told me to keep you alive– surprisingly– and so I had to chain you here," Tanaka tries to explain, "This is the mini-ward we have in the headquarters. The toilet is there, you should be able to go there since the chain is long enough. Erm." A pause. "Sorry things suck."

Iwaizumi nods absently, looking at the layout of the place. It's small; there is only one other bed here, as well as a small table and a few chairs. Mentally rewinding what happened before he passed out, suddenly Iwaizumi finds himself facing the terrifying truth.

"Tanaka, can you–"

"Yeah, okay," his subordinate seems to understand his need to be alone, "I'm... sorry for your loss."

The door closes firmly and Iwaizumi is left alone with his thoughts.

 _So… Oikawa, dead?_ He can't say it never occurred to him that perhaps after all these while, after all the searching and false leads and fears and denials that he already knew the man was gone. _I mean, Oikawa isn't such a shitty friend that he'd drop all contacts without a word,_ Iwaizumi laughs, the sound hollow and pained.

His hands shake when he tries to readjust his shirt. _Once… Twice… Thrice…_ It is at the fifth try that he finally unbuttons the top of his collared shirt.

Loss is a terrible ordeal to face.

Realisation strikes him; he wasn't there for Oikawa's funeral. Iwaizumi collapses back onto the bed, defeated by his thoughts, mattress creaking in protest beneath him. _I should sleep._

He does.

When he wakes up, the light is dimmer. He hears breathing adjacent to him, on the other bed. Craning his neck, Iwaizumi makes out a flop of orange hair and a familiar face under an oxygen mask. No matter how hard he tried to justify the wound, guilt still creeps into his heart. (He's a policeman, he's supposed to help, not harm.) It becomes clear to him then, watching the boy's chest heave with difficulty every breath he takes, that revenge is not his answer. Revenge never was.

Iwaizumi lost track of time. He doesn't know how long he's been lying in that position, but when he opens his eyes again there is a figure to the right of Hinata's still form.

 _Kageyama_ , he recognises almost instinctively, and the knowledge that this name will forever remind him of Oikawa makes him sad beyond words.

Kageyama is sitting hunched over Hinata. _They were wearing matching suits, weren't they_? The implication is not lost on him; _are they lovers?_

Either way, when a sharp metallic flash of light catches his attention, his whole body tenses.

 _A knife._

 _What is he doing with a knife? Is he here to exact revenge on me?_ Iwaizumi knows that if worse comes to worse, he has enough training to protect himself.

 _Wait_ , his mind catches up to his eyes and he realises that he is not the one in danger.

Kageyama holds the knife in a tight right-hand grip, his breathing shallow and forced. The knife points a deadly vertical down on Hinata's throat. If he sensed Iwaizumi's consciousness, he does not show any sign of it.

"Hinata Shouyou," Kageyama says with reverence. His left hand strokes Hinata's neck almost tenderly, and Iwaizumi feels helpless lying there, not able to do anything.

Kageyama continues in a hushed voice, "Hinata, if you were to die, I would like to be the one that kills you." In the weak light his gaze is unfocused, as though looking through the other boy than at him.

"When we met, I wanted to. You were the perfect canvas, and your blood the perfect medium." Here he draws his right hand back, taking up a stance ready to stab. Iwaizumi tries his best to not freak out. _What's happening?!_

"Hinata Shouyou, do you know that every day you spend by my side, you are giving me a chance to kill? Every night I wonder if it would be your last." From his bed, Iwaizumi can see the arm with the knife trembling with an internal struggle. _What the hell is wrong with you_ , he wants to shout. No sane person would act like this.

"I could have stabbed you, bled you dry. Sometimes you're so infuriating it drives me up the wall and I'd think it's about time I do it," Kageyama whispers, yet he lowers the sharp blade gently until it rests on the pillow, the other not harmed one bit.

"Can you hear me, Hinata Shouyou?" The hand holding the knife lets go and cups the ginger's face. Iwaizumi is suddenly made aware of the wet sound of sobs. Too struck by the private moment to move, he looks on as Kageyama bends and places a tender kiss on Hinata's forehead.

"Don't let my struggles go to waste, okay?" Kageyama hiccups, "Please wake up soon, Hinata."

The _I need you here_ goes unspoken, but it hangs heavy like a fog in the room. Iwaizumi swallows with difficulty.

Kageyama leaves after a few minutes, but not before ruffling the ginger's hair a few times. The screech of chair against the floor reverberates in Iwaizumi's mind and it is countless minutes before he falls asleep again.

The third time Iwaizumi wakes up, he notices Kageyama sitting at the small desk in the room, opposite his bed. He hears the rustling of papers and suddenly spots his bag on the desk as well.

"You're awake," Kageyama comments, sparing him a fleeting glance, "Food is on the drawer beside your bed. Eat up."

The two of them pass more time in silence, save for the sound of writing and the clatter of utensils. When Iwaizumi finishes the meal, he gets up and visits the toilet, finding with relief that the chain is indeed long enough.

A glance at the mirror reveals that the cop looks as awful as he feels. Judging from the stubble that grew, he must have been here for a day or two. Either way, he sets about to tidying up immediately.

As he steps out of the bathroom, looking fresh, Kageyama calls out to him, "Come with me for a few, there are things we need to talk about." He gets up and goes over to Iwaizumi, who tenses up. _Too soon._

Kageyama halts in his step with a stiff apology, and hands the man a small key instead.

"For your chain."

 _Why aren't you afraid I'll run?_ Iwaizumi wonders, then realises that Kageyama must've seen him for who he really is, must've been the same once upon a time– just a lost man looking for answers.

Kageyama takes Iwaizumi's bag with him, and with one last look at Hinata ( _still unconscious_ ), he steps out of the ward with Iwaizumi close behind.

They meet a startled Sugawara on their way out.

"Kageyama? What–" He seems to want to say more, but instead gives a small shake of head, "Don't do anything stupid while you're out, alright?"

After Kageyama gives a firm nod he sends them on their way, and Iwaizumi finds with astonishment that he likes the other man already.

They step out into the storage room, then out into the convenience store. From the light outside Iwaizumi judges that it must be about noon. The clerk at the counter is a young man with blond hair holding a cigarette in his mouth, absently flicking through newspapers with his feet propped up on the counter surface. Kageyama approaches him, "I'll be gone for a while, sir."

The man looks up, gives them a once over and a contemplating ' _hm_ ', then goes back to his newspaper with a shrug, "Do whatever you have to do, just don't do anything stupid."

Kageyama bows respectfully, then continues on his way with Iwaizumi in tow. They reach a silver _Mitsubishi_ parked at the side of the road and Kageyama tells Iwaizumi to get in, he himself opening the door to the driver's seat. Iwaizumi climbs into the back seat after a moment of hesitation.

"New car?" he notes its excellent state, as though it has never been used.

"Yeah, bought it yesterday." Kageyama doesn't elaborate and they fall into an awkward silence.

The atmosphere is broken by Kageyama's voice, "I'm sure you have questions. Just ask whatever you want to know."

Iwaizumi slips into interrogation mode.

"Is Oikawa really dead?"

"Yes, he is."

"What was your relationship with him?"

"He was the mentor and I was the student."

"Why did I not know about your existence before?"

"I was a child borne from an affair, my parents wished to cover up my existence."

Here Iwaizumi pauses, surprised by the nonchalance of which Kageyama used to deliver the reply, as though it is a fact he feels indifferent to, instead of a grudge or a shameful secret.

"How did Oikawa die?"

"I stuck a cord with a stray live wire into the bath when Oikawa was inside. He died of an electric shock."

"Why did you kill him?"

Kageyama falls silent for a moment. Then he continues, albeit more slowly, "I used to play volleyball. It was all I had, an escape when the feeling of being unloved becomes too much. To a certain extend, you can say that my sense of worth came from how I was as a player, so when Oikawa stopped my public schooling I lost all chances to play volleyball.

"I was pretty mad about it, but he promised to let me go back to school if I studied well under him. So I excelled at everything thrown my way, my sole determination set on being able to play volleyball again. One day, to celebrate my own birthday I bought a laptop, and somehow ended up looking up the syllabus of students my age. I was actually far ahead of my peers, so I went to Oikawa, demanding an answer as to why he hadn't let me back into a public school yet.

"He told me that I was old enough to be a grown up and thus I should stop playing stupid games. But at that time it wasn't just some hobby of mine. It was literally my _everything_. Oikawa denied me a sense of worth by cutting me off from volleyball, and I committed a murder, overcomed by the anger."

There is a long pause in the car. From bits and pieces of the story, Iwaizumi picks out that Kageyama's parents must have a high standing in society, and thus want to cover up his existence. It must also be why they can afford Oikawa as a full-time mentor. He continues the questions.

"Did you ever regret the murder?"

"Every single day."

"Are you a hitman?"

A hum of affirmation.

"Did you commit any more murders outside of your job as a hitman?"

The car reaches a traffic light and slows to a stop. Kageyama gives him a weird look from the rear view mirror. Then, in a quiet voice he says, "I am Sire Noble, the serial killer that has escaped the police countless of times."

 _Including you_ , he doesn't say.

A wave of terror washes through Iwaizumi, followed by an overpowering sense of disbelief. _The man I've been looking for for so long is you?!_

"...Why?" _Why did you become a serial killer, if you regret killing so much?_

"I think… I think I tried to drown myself in the guilt," Kageyama confesses, as the car starts again, "Oikawa's death, it– it left an impression, and sometimes it feels like it's something I have to do to survive, like a compulsion to kill. And slowly I turned it into art, into something I don't have to feel too bad about. That's why I targeted people I felt were disgusting people, although I myself am one. Pretty messed up, I know."

"Why did you stop, then? There was a lull period sometime ago, before you started leaving the symbol on your victims."

"Ah, well, that was because of Hinata, actually. It's a long story."

"I've got all the time in the world right now," Iwaizumi shrugs.

So Kageyama sets off to explaining how they met. How, by a stroke of luck, they collided at their old apartment and Hinata dropped his wallet, leading to a series of events that set the basis of their relationship, how Hinata was a hitman under the alias of Yachi Hitoka, whose target was the faceless Sire Noble, and how Kageyama had struggle with the delicious thought of killing Hinata, but couldn't seem to do it. How, one terrible morning they met again, in Kageyama's apartment, with their ugly alter egos out in the open. He revealed how Hinata fell in love with him and could not pull the trigger, and how the ginger became his sole anchor in life that preserving Hinata's life became more important than snuffing it out. He started to fight the morbid addiction instead when they moved in together, and with Hinata's support he was getting better. Still, Hinata was a hitman, and he ended up becoming one too.

"Um, can I ask a possibly personal question?" Iwaizumi ventures.

"You've been asking personal questions for the past minutes already, but sure."

"Are you two lovers?"

Iwaizumi expected a ' _yes!'_ or a strong bout of embarrassed denial, but what he didn't expect was a confused cock of Kageyama's head.

"Not really, I don't think," he says, "but I guess? If it makes Hinata happy… You see, I know how it works in theory, relationships and all, but we aren't really like that, I think. We've not done anything past a few chaste kisses, and I'm pretty sure that's enough for a lifetime, both for me and for him. Although he's told me before that he's... in love with me." A thoughtful pause, then he concludes, "Either way, I love him very much, and he's important to me."

They fall into a deep silence, with Iwaizumi contemplating the strange way in which the relationship between those two operate. _It explains the matching suits_ –

His thoughts are interrupted by Kageyama, "I don't blame you, I mean, you trying to shoot me. It was partly my own fault. Don't beat yourself up over Hinata's current condition either, he chose to jump in." Iwaizumi notes that while his voice is level, his hands are grabbing the steering so hard that the knuckles have turned white.

Thinking through the conversation again, Iwaizumi decides that Kageyama deserves to know the reason he was treated so unfairly, "It's not an excuse, but I think I know why he probably seem to resent it whenever you talk about volleyball. When we were younger, we were in the same volleyball team. We were good– Oikawa even won the ' _Best Setter Award'_. We could've made it to the nationals, but Oikawa had to quit because of a knee injury. He pretended that it was nothing big, although I could tell that it was a pretty big blow to his self-worth and he was quite out of it for a while. Some time later he decided to focus solely on being a musician instead, but maybe he never did recover from the incident. Maybe you reminded him of himself and he decided that if he can't play volleyball then you can't either. "

Suddenly it occurs to Iwaizumi that they're on a familiar road. "Are we going to…"

"Yeah," Kageyama nods, "Oikawa's place. There is something you need to know."

They reach their destination, the solemn mansion of a deceased man, and dead leaves crackle underfoot with each step Iwaizumi takes.

Running his hands over the old oak door once again, as he did when he was young, the first time he saw Oikawa's new dwelling, Iwaizumi finds himself engulfed by a new sense of loss instead of childlike awe.

"Let's go," Kageyama appears behind him, and they enter. Kageyama leads him to the ballroom, to the old piano still standing faithfully by a corner, even when its master is gone.

"Here," Kageyama takes out a wad of paper from Iwaizumi's bag. "I wrote down the contents of the letter for you. Sorry I looked through it, but Oikawa's emotional handwriting is something that can only be understood if you've dealt with it enough times before." He doesn't elaborate when, or how, he had possibly 'dealt with it' before. Iwaizumi doesn't dwell on it. _Probably not good memories._

"Personally I've never played this piece before," he holds up _Memo_ , "despite him always making me play every song he wrote."

"Why not?" Iwaizumi asks, intrigued.

"It's a very special piece. I don't think he has ever played it for anyone but you."

With that Kageyama settles on the piano bench, cutting off further discussions.

"I think it's best I play it while you read the letter, so that you understand what I mean," he says, and hence begins a very, very familiar tune.

 _It was that one Oikawa always played after a heartbreak, and the only one that can move him to tears,_ Iwaizumi recognises. He starts on the letter.

 _Dear Iwa-chan,_ the letter reads with Kageyama's impeccable handwriting, _I'm sorry, I can't keep this a secret anymore._

 _I thought I could, I tried really hard, can you tell? Girls after girls, women after women, I wanted to show you that I don't need you like I do. That's why I dated so much, you know. I really tried my best. I was nice to them, I tried to make them happy, but I always seem to get annoyed because they don't understand me like you do._

 _Apparently I talk to them a lot about you. Some of them dump me, you might've noticed, and it's almost always because of you. They say I talk about you so much it feels like the two of us are lovers instead._

 _Can you see where this letter is going? You are a smart man, so you probably do, but then again, you really suck when it comes to feelings, stupid. That's why you've never gotten a girlfriend before._

Dimly Iwaizumi realises that the tune has ended, and Kageyama is restarting, the intensity of emotions in the piece still strong as ever.

 _I'd be sad if you get a girlfriend, because you don't need me like I need you, and it makes me scared. What is one day you get stolen away from me? What would I do?_

 _I thought you'd be disgusted to know this, and I was terrified of us growing apart, so I tried to hide it, but it seems like I've finally reached my limit after all these years. It might've been a decade, maybe two. I don't know._

 _Iwaizumi Hajime, man of my life, I am utterly and hopelessly in love with you._

Iwaizumi stops reading. Then he re-reads the line again. Then again. Then one more time for good measure.

"I never knew," the words escape his mouth and he suddenly feels terrible. _What kind of friend am I?_ The melody picks up speed, twirling around his ears with a passionate, breathtaking slam of keys, and suddenly it falls, falls like a vertical into a deep yet lonely tune.

 _I'm really sorry, I thought I was strong enough to stay silent forever. Apparently I'm not._

 _Hey, Iwa-chan, do you know the piece I always play after I get dumped? It makes me feel sad, but not because of whichever girlfriend I had at that time. I wrote that piece for you, to you. That's why it's called_ Memo: With Love To Him _, although I never did tell you it's name._

 _Every time I broke up with some girl because of you, I'm reminded of my own failure to keep these feelings under wrap. Then I shamelessly tell you to listen to me play the piano, and I poured out my love over and over again like countless confessions you'll never understand, and it makes me feel so wretched I can't help but cry._

 _Iwa-chan, what do I do? I finally acknowledged it– I really really really really really love you._

 _Can I continue to be your best friend like nothing's happened before? I can't lose you. I won't be able to survive it, I'm not strong enough to do this alone._

 _I remember the time I had a terrible fallout with a lady and she accused me of being in love with you. I was so shaken up that I went through one night stands after one night stands, whirlwind relationships after whirlwind relationships. I would have been consumed by these self-destructive behaviours, but you were there. I remember you suddenly barging into my bedroom one day with a huge frown on your face, and then proclaiming that we'll be taking a day off and that you'll sit through any movie I want to watch. You did, to my surprise, although you could've tone down on the sarcasm, thanks very much._

 _I think my heart got stolen even more then._

 _Remember that impromptu kiss that I gave you when I was drunk one night? I still remember that. It felt amazing. For a moment I was able to pretend that you were mine, and I yours. I want to kiss you again. I want to do so much more than that to you. How shameful, isn't it?_

 _I wonder if I'll ever get enough courage to do this, to hand you the letter. Right now, I'm feeling much better just writing this down. Maybe one day I can really tell you how I feel. I hope we can still be best friends._

 _With love to you,  
_ _Oikawa Tooru_

* * *

The sun dips low into the horizon, and the sky bleeds dark over a backdrop of orange. Outside, trees sway from the evening wind and rain down leaves both fresh and dead.

Kageyama left a recorder here earlier, with _Memo_ saved inside. Iwaizumi tinkered with it until it started playing softly.

(" _If you still don't understand, know that I think about Hinata when I play this piece," Kageyama had said_.)

Iwaizumi thinks about Oikawa, the beautiful, infuriating, talented, terrible man that is his best friend. Would he have pushed Oikawa away if he knew the other's love for him? He can't say for sure. However, deep in his heart he knows that no matter what happens, he will never let anything come between the two of them.

Thinking back, so many things make sense now. The music stops, then starts again, and Iwaizumi can pretend it is Oikawa playing when he closes his eyes. He can see the pianist's body swaying in accordance to the music, hands deft and nimble, eyes clouding up with tears.

Kageyama had told him, before he left, that his parents had pulled some strings to take ownership over the mansion and everything Oikawa owned when the man passed away, and Kageyama had contacted them to transfer this ownership to himself. He left the legal documents on the table with the recorder and told Iwaizumi that Oikawa's estate, bank account and everything else is now his. He can do whatever he wants with it. Subconsciously Iwaizumi is aware that he can pay for the spending of four lifetimes with all these property.

He thinks he will quit his job as a policeman. For the position of chief, he will recommend Tanaka. Even after the betrayal, Iwaizumi's gut instinct still tells him that the other is the right person for the job. _Except he can't solve certain murders is all_.

He wonders if he should move to an apartment nearer to Oikawa's mansion, so he can visit as he likes. He wonders, too, if he should restore the place to its original glory and just live there.

He will send some money back to his parents, surely, and he will visit them when the time is right. It has been a long time since he saw either one of them.

As for Kageyama, Iwaizumi still does not know what to feel about him. Like Oikawa, they were both passionate individuals, but unlike Oikawa, Kageyama is not afraid to lean on the person he loves, because he loves truthfully and because he is loved with the same intensity, perhaps more, by a certain ginger as bright as the sun itself. Iwaizumi wishes from the bottom of his heart happiness for the both of them.

Now, about him and Oikawa. He wonders if they could have had a much happier future if Iwaizumi were more sensitive to both their feelings and Oikawa were less insecure. Could he have returned the feelings? Iwaizumi knows for sure that he couldn't have. Oikawa Tooru will forever be his best friend, no more and no less.

But, perhaps with a history of commitment and trust behind them, they could have found a balance, just like how Kageyama and Hinata did in the chaos of this world.

 _Either way, it doesn't matter anymore._

Pushing himself up with his hands, Iwaizumi stands and makes his way to the glass panels extending from the floor to the ceiling, where the first stars are appearing already. Above the city lights, they are weak and insignificant, but Iwaizumi remembers the night long ago, when he gazed the stars with Oikawa beside him, and the skies were filled with the beauty of a thousand twinkling lights.

And he gazes at them now, the thousands of stars invisible in the skies; he wonders if Oikawa is on one of the stars, living, laughing, just like how he had said it all those years ago, quoting the book he so loves.

Iwaizumi wonders that if he were to see the stars again, if they would seem as though they were all laughing, and if he would have the stars as no one else has them, if he would have the stars that can laugh.

* * *

 _A/N: Phew, it's finally done! Thanks for all of your support these past months, and especially thanks to all who reviewed! It is a joy to read them~_


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